The Gauntlet
by iyimgrace
Summary: It started as a challenge, a frivolous little joke just to mess with him, but it wound up taking on monumental proportions that could change both of them forever. House/Thirteen Set in S4 right after Ugly, Spoilers S4. Adult language and mild smut.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Stumbled onto Hadleyfest one day, months ago and was intrigued. I've always been of the mindset that Thirteen was meant to replace Cameron in a way that gave him a kindred soul with a touch of compassion for him. I think if the writer's strike had not happened, she wouldn't have turned into the boring, simpering pariah everyone has made her out to be. Thanks to dancingphalanges for the effort to create an homage to her, even though it seems to have not panned out._

_The PROMPT: She truly hated the bastard. And yet…_

_The SUMMARY: One night, they are the last two left in the office, a challenge is thrown down that neither can ignore _

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__The SPOILERS: None, but takes place somewhere in season 4 before all of the mess started.__  
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**The Gauntlet**

_She truly hated the bastard. And yet..._

She didn't.

Was she crazy? No. She was just tired. It had been a long day and he was especially mean for most of it. They had a particularly hard case and things weren't going well. He must have taken somewhere around twelve Vicodin throughout the day and he was either a giddy, sarcastic asshole or a caustic rusty knife boring into her and everyone around him. Honestly, she could tolerate either one. It was like a gift that know one else understood. The problem was she never knew which House she was going to get. And that sucked. She could never be prepared.

It was after 8:30pm and everyone else had gone home except for her and the aforementioned grizzly bear who was still teetering around his dimly lit office. The patient was stable enough to leave for the night so she decided to pack up her things and go home. A bag of Doritos and diet Dr. Pepper on the sofa in front of the TV with the nightly _CSI_ marathons on _Spike_ always soothed her nerves after a long day of 'Dodge the House insults'. She hoped she had some of her favorite snacks because she really couldn't remember the last time she had time to actually go shopping. Hell, she should probably keep like five bags on hand because occasions like this seemed to be popping up more often than not lately.

Remy swung her leather messenger bag over her shoulder and pulled on her hot pink crocheted cap. It was twenty degrees out this morning when she left and now that the sun was down again; it was probably still just as cold. She flicked the light off in the DDX room as she stepped through the glass door going the short distance to the elevator and pushed the button. She shook her head as she thought for the six thousandth time, why in the world would someone make a hospital with glass walls? Intubation, seizures and urine bags were not the visual décor that one needs to see flashing through the corner of your eye every ten feet or so like a gory medical montage as you walk down the hallway. Besides, it made it really hard to jump your boss and have him bend you over his desk for a quickie late at night when no one was watching.

She gasped a little in surprise of her own wandering thought process as she felt her cheeks grow hot at the explicit scene going on in her head. She couldn't believe she was fanaticizing about him like that. She hated him, didn't she? Didn't mean she didn't want to fuck him, though. He was annoying, dickish, bitter, angry, and yet she was drawn to him like a moth to flame. He was fun sometimes, though. Mostly, he was dangerous in a way that excited her. His intelligence bordered on genius. His skill rivaled no one she ever studied under. His sense of humor coincided with her own. He was sexy as all get out. He could hurt her deeply if she let him. And she wasn't sure she would stop him if he tried.

A noise from behind her shook her from her erotic thoughts. She didn't have to even look behind her to know it was him. The sound of his sneakers and the tip of his cane on the tile floor were as distinct as the thumping of a flat tire on pavement. She closed her eyes and pursed her lips together praying that the elevator came fast so she wouldn't have to endure standing next to him in awkward silence after she had just envisioned his penis inside her on the glass top of the conference room table. _Damn her fertile imagination._

He came to a stop beside her wearing his dark wool pea coat and backpack over his shoulder. Without saying anything to her, he pushed the elevator button twice with his cane. She shook her head and jammed her hands in the pockets of her jeans. He always did that. Like his special push was going to be the one that made the elevator actually come faster. He was so impatient. And such a child.

Remy could feel his eyes on her. He was not afraid to stare openly at anyone. In fact, he practically leered at her sometimes like he was undressing her with those incredible eyes. She should be offended. But she secretly liked it. That was a little part of the dangerous thing about him that she was attracted to. He was always studying her like he thought he was actually going to discover what she was thinking if he looked hard enough. She loved it that he couldn't figure it out.

She brought her eyes up to his and stared back at him pointedly with a smirk. He narrowed his eyes at her curiously, his expressive eyebrows going through a myriad of speculations. Lifting her chin daring him to continue his pursuit, she held her gaze hard and fast because she knew how much he hated it when she did that. Like some how she'd be able to see into his soul and find out some secret about him she could use as collateral against him. He broke the contact and cast his eyes down to the floor like he always did. He was a coward underneath it all. But then again so was she. They were the same, hard and tough on the outside but afraid to emotionally connect to anyone on the inside because then they'd be truly vulnerable. And vulnerability made them weak.

The elevator doors opened and he limped in ahead of her completely ignoring the gentlemanly convention of ladies first. Once she was in, he punched the button to the lobby again with the tip of his cane. They rode in silence. Still. Neither one of them talking. He looked up at the ceiling puffing out his stubbled cheeks with his breath and then letting out on an audible flapping sigh. He tapped his cane anxiously against the floor while she stood still, staring at their contorted reflection in the dull surface of the elevator doors. With any other person this would have been a painless elevator ride. With him and his social awkwardness, it was torture. But his inability to hold a normal conversation amused her. He was so inept when it came to being a human being. It was kind of endearing.

Thankfully, the doors opened with a clunk and she gestured for him to exit with her hand. He paused for a millisecond and nodded before he hobbled out into the main lobby. Taking out her mittens, Remy put them on as she walked next to him, her boot heals clicking against the tile surface unconsciously keeping pace with his limping stride as she had gotten used to very early on in the survival quest that was her job interview. They approached the door to the outside and he stopped before opening it.

"It's late and I'm hungry, " he stated.

"It is, " she agreed simply.

He tipped his head at her. "I need someone to pay for my dinner."

Remy felt a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. He was asking her out... in his own twisted sort of way. A little part of her that she wouldn't totally acknowledge tingled with excitement. "I always expect that if I pay for dinner, my date has to put out, " she said boldly knowing it would both intrigue him and throw him off guard at the same time.

He smiled and tilted his head considering her for a moment. "So if I pay for dinner that means _you'll_ put out?"

She knew she had the upper hand here and she couldn't help but wield that power. She leaned in close enough to his neck by his ear that she could smell the remaining essence of the laundry detergent he used. "You could buy me a coffee and a bag of M&Ms and I'd let you bend me over the hood of your car."

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as he stammered for coherent thought. She pulled back with a saucy grin and pushed the door open striding into the crisp winter air. When he didn't follow immediately, she turned and her booted heel and tossed a look at him. "You coming or am I going to have order delivery?"

He jerked his head and blinked, regaining his composure. "Burgers ok?"

Remy chuckled and fell into step beside him. "Perfect."


	2. Chapter 2

The Gauntlet:

_A/N: Ok, so originally this was a one-shot deal. This wasn't the beginning of their story for me, but House's side was begging to be told. How could I leave it at that? Right? So, I've figured out how to continue this to tell one of my versions of their story. I think I actually have a few. With Huntington's, without Huntington's… not really sure. I've decided to push the time line back to just after Ugly. I went back to reread the first chapter and with the switch of only one word (remarkable huh?) it fits, so we'll just chalk that up to an unbetaed mistake… They are still in the interview process and she doesn't know yet if she's dying. And House is still House! Enjoy!_

Chapter 2

House wasn't sure why he agreed to go for burgers. Hell, he wasn't even sure what made him mention it in the first place. His blood sugar must have been low because he let his stomach do the talking. It wasn't like he liked her. In fact, he didn't. She was annoying. She was frustrating. She put on this air of mystery when really what she was was a scared little girl afraid of being found out that she was a poser. She pretended to be all tough and indecipherable but it was all just a façade to hide who she really was. And he hated that about women. He hated that about her.

He truly hated her. And yet...

He didn't.

He was fascinated by her.

Maybe it was all those things put together that made him intrigued by her. She was stubborn, and tough on the outside in a way that many young women her age weren't. She had a worldliness to her eyes, like she had seen and been through a lot. There was some kind of history there. Something intangible but, nevertheless real. It had made a mark and she wore it like a badge to keep people at bay. It was almost as big as the wall he put around himself to keep people out of his life and out of his business. He often wondered what it was that made her so inexplicable. Sometimes, the way she'd circumvent his prodding with that irritating secretive smile made him want to reveal that mark and see what made her tick.

The truth was she really was a mystery to him. She was an anomaly. And he could never let an anomaly go without further inspection. She was beautiful and tragic and while he didn't normal go for that, she was oddly attractive to him in more ways that just physical. And frankly that wigged him out a bit. She was twenty-five for God sakes. He was twice her age, literally. Well, minus a year but at that point what difference did it make. He was a busted up, old man and she was a young, vital woman. She was an employee competing for a job on his team. _What the fuck was he doing here having dinner with her?_

They entered the pub and she immediately threaded her way through the crowd to the bar area. He watched her thin back disappear in a group of youngish guys like she had done this a thousand times before. Looking around, he didn't really want to make the trek though the horde of people and wondered why the hell there was such a crowd tonight. _Holy shit, it was Friday_. When the hell did it become Friday? The last he recalled it was Wednesday and he had just fired Beautiful CIA Doc.

_Ah, Beautiful CIA Doc_. Now there was woman, of a more socially acceptable age for him as if he really cared about that, who could wrap her legs around him and keep him up all night. The only problem was she made him stupid, and stupid he couldn't handle. Thirteen at least was beautiful AND smart which made her comfortingly ugly. No, that was a lie. She was not, by any stretch of the imagination, ugly. No. On the contrary, she was extremely beautiful in an ethereal otherworldly kind of way. She was probably an absolute siren in bed. She could wrap her long legs around him and keep him up all night too AND still get the medical job done. Shaking that alluring yet, disturbing, visual image from his mind, he followed her path to the tall table she found to the side of the bar.

She was breathlessly taking off her little pink crocheted cap and mittens. Her pale aqua blue eyes, alight with an effervescent verve, stared at him as she warmed from coming in from the cold.

"I had no idea this place would be so crowded," she rushed out on a breath as she looked around. "I guess I kind of forgot it was Friday."

House shrugged taking off his own jacket. "We're here now. And I'm not getting any less hungry."

She let out an unusual sound. _Did she just giggle?_ "I'm gonna go to the bar and get us something to drink? What's your poison?"

He drew his eyebrows together and twisted his lips into a contemplative frown. _Hmm, what'd he feel like tonight?_ If he were home, he'd be two glasses under already in bourbon. But he was out, at a pub for food. That meant beer. "Umm, Killian's." She flashed him a little smirk before disappearing to the bar.

He watched her backside float away from him in those tight little jeans and a stirring began somewhere deep within that he hadn't felt in a while. _So she let him bend her over the hood of his car for a bag of M&M's and a coffee, huh?_ _What would she let him do for a couple of beers and a cheeseburger? _He huffed a disbelieving snort and tore his eyes away from her lean and curvy figure as she leaned provocatively on the bar to grab the bartender's attention. She'd no sooner let him actually do that then he'd ask Cuddy for more Clinic hours. She was full of shit. She was just playing with him. As usual.

Returning with their drinks, she carried them clinked together in the pyramid of her hands like she'd done some waitressing in her time. She placed them carefully onto the heavily shellacked surface and perched her fine little ass on the barstool. Raising her glass, she waited expectantly for him to touch his glass to hers before drinking. "Here's to not killing our patient and having her last over the weekend."

Rolling his eyes, he banged his glass against hers. "Here's to solving the puzzle."

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. "Ah yes, the ever present puzzle. Whatever would your life be without it?"

"Boring," he claimed, leveling a stare at her and a shrug of indifference.

Blowing off his attitude, she flagged a waitress down to place a food order. They ordered burgers and fries, which was what they had indeed come here for in the first place. Once the waitress left, they sat in silence and drank for a bit without talking. The alcohol was making a beeline through his blood to his fuzzy brain because he hadn't anything to eat since… maybe breakfast? He wasn't really sure. He felt buzzed and slightly more relaxed with every sip.

House couldn't really look at her. She was inspecting him with those grayish green-blue dark rimmed eyes again. Challenging him, daring him. To do what, he had no idea. It was as if he amused her because every time she looked at him like that she had that same annoying smirk on her face. And damnit that pissed him off. Suddenly, she made that sound again. It _was_ a giggle. She was laughing at him.

"What?" he demanded.

She shook her head and extended her arms out in front of her on a long feline like stretch. She giggled again. "I make you nervous."

He brought his eyes back to her. "Nervous and me don't fit in the same sentence together."

"Ok, awkward then," she chuckled relaxing and taking another sip of beer.

He rolled his eyes and harrumphed. "You are so far off base." He took another sip of his beer. "Don't try and figure me out, it won't work."

"Why? You keep trying to figure me out," she countered.

He ignored her comment and turned the tables on her like he was so adept at doing. "So why'd you come here tonight? Why go for food with me?"

"I already told you. You agreed to pay for dinner and I agreed to put out."

House snorted in laughter. "Yeah, right."

She smiled dubiously at him. "What, you don't think I would?"

He ran his tongue over the back of his teeth and paused for a breath. "You don't want to sleep with me, even if it means winning the job. That's not your style. It's more Cut-Throat Bitch's territory."

She regarded him for a moment through her dark fringed eyelashes. "Maybe you're wrong?"

"Nope. Never wrong." He sipped his beer staunching the flow of self-recrimination emerging its ugly head. This felt vaguely familiar to another, way more disastrous, date he'd had with a very different young and impressionably naïve fellow. Besides, this wasn't really a date. It was dinner out at a bar.

She tipped her glass at him and smiled ruefully. "Well, I guess we'll never know."

He shrugged. "I guess not."


	3. Chapter 3

The Gauntlet

_A/N: The next bunch of chapters takes place in _You Don't Want to Know_. It's a pivotal episode for Thirteen and House. It's where they have the biggest interaction between them and the first indication that there may have been a real spark between them (Until TPTB totally ignored that and went screaming in the other way less interesting direction) but I digress… I have used almost ALL of the real dialogue from the episode and interspersed some of my own so please forgive if the medical stuff gets in the way. The real fruit is in the spaces between. In my humble opinion, it's the personal relationships that are the most interesting. The medical stuff is so much cooler when you watch it on television! Enjoy!_

Chapter 3

Remy watched as House entered, late as usual, on a freaking scooter of all things. Her eyes followed him as he circled around the front of the lecture hall like an eight year old. The only thing that would have made it more ridiculous would have been if he had one of his stupid lollipops hanging out of his mouth.

He stopped directly in front of them conveniently avoiding her eyes, instead delving right into the juvenile sarcasm. He refused to have sex with her last week out of some twisted adult sense of gentlemanly morality for her honor but he could ride around on a child's toy like it was the most natural thing in the world. And she was the one that was a mystery? Ha!

Remy thought back to that strange night almost a week ago. She really didn't want to sleep with him, that wasn't her motive for saying that about the M&M's and coffee. She had originally just wanted to mess with him and throw him for a loop because it was so much fun to watch his befuddled reaction to her. _It was a joke_. She hadn't expected him to actually agree to go to dinner. That was a surprise. She suspected it surprised him too. It wasn't all terrible, though. Once he had a couple of beers under his belt, he was actually funny and not in his usual perverted way. They made fun of the college guys woefully trying to hook up with anything that had a hole. They made up ridiculous back-stories for the rest of the members of their team. Taub's was the best, because it was so outlandish and he had the least sense of humor. They played a few games of pool and he beat the pants off of her, figuratively not literally. They drank some more and then said goodnight. Plain and simple. Though they'd never actually consume food together again, she was sure, they did have fun.

She heard Taub's snort of irritated disdain and brought her attention back to the scene at hand keeping her smile to herself. House looked around at each of the candidates and frowned as he skimmed quickly over her to Big Love. He was in a mood. _Oh this was going to be fun_.

He was rambling on about them not having a case so now they needed to engage in a challenge to prove worthiness or some bullshit of the sort and Kutner was baiting him with some equally boring insistence that they _really_ did have a patient that presented with weird unexplained symptoms. Stupid Magician Guy who had cardiac arrest in a fish tank. House was bored, of course, because the guy wasn't coming down with some inexplicable plague. Taub was bored because this was all so beneath him. Foreman was in the back of the hall, bored because he hated House more than anyone. Even she was bored. Cole just looked, well Cole-like. The only person who was remotely interested was Cut-throat Bitch and that was simply because she was a blood-sucking piranha and would permanently affix her lips to House's dick if it meant that she was going to win.

House dismissed Kutner to go run the tests to prove that he would once again be right and that all of them were stupid. Remy almost felt bad for the poor idiot. Now he had to prove himself correct under the threat of being fired when we was wrong. _Sucks to be him_.

"What's the challenge?" Amber repeated perkily once Kutner left the room.

House paused for dramatic effect. "We can all applaud the doctor who's willing to break all the rules. But the real hero is the unsung doctor, _toiling in anonymity_, because he broke the rules without getting caught." He turned around in his musings to look at them all. His gaze stopped at her for a moment. "I need to know you have these skills. I need you..." He scanned the room and his face took on a diabolical, maniacal air. "… _To bring me the thong of Lisa Cuddy_."

Thirteen shorted out loud and rolled her eyes. He was insane. She looked down the row at him with an irritated smirk. He couldn't possibly be serious. His crazy eyes flashed up at her and narrowed when he saw her contempt. Rolling his eyes, he looked away to Amber who was ready to go rip said thong of the woman's cold dead body this very second.

Foreman moved his paper to check to see if House did indeed just require five professional doctors to go and retrieve the underwear of the hospital administrator they all worked for. When he found that it was exactly what had just occurred, he said nothing, of course, and went back to reading the paper. Apparently this was… _normal_?

"Not kidding." House said impatiently when no one responded.

Remy scoffed. If he wanted Cuddy's underwear so badly why didn't he go get it himself? He obviously wanted to have sex with her and this was just some sort of creepy ploy. Even a blind person could see that. Why did he have to make them go do his dirty work? Oh that's right, because he was a big coward and their tough-as-nails boss would probably eat him alive and lay eggs inside his lifeless corpse. _Fuck that_. She wasn't playing.

Everyone remained locked in their chairs afraid to be the first one to actually believe he was serious. She looked around at them. She sure as hell wasn't going to be the first one to move and give him the satisfaction. He sighed with irritation again, now becoming aggravated. "Thong. Cuddy. Go."

Reluctantly, everyone started to file out of the room and this mission from Hell. They passed Foreman at the top of the stairs. He had an odd grin on his face that looked freakishly out of place. "It's how I got hired." He was lying of course. Why he went along with House's insane games she would never know.

Remy turned over her shoulder to take one last look at House before she left. He was watching her, as usual. His blue eyes searched her for some kind of reaction. Deciding to throw him off guard again she beamed a smile at him. His eyebrows knit in confusion and then he shook his head on a little laugh before getting back on his scooter and exiting the room. _God he was annoying._

She pushed the door open with a shove and joined her fellow detainees on their death march toward their Fate.

Amber was hot on the trail of the prize while Cole and Taub lingered methodically behind.

"You're actually considering this?" Remy questioned looking at the blonde doctor.

Amber turned to her and gave a feigned look of understanding. "If you want to stand on principle, I really respect you for that."

Remy almost threw up her breakfast. _Please… the only thing you would respect is if I rolled over and handed you the knife so you could stab me in the back with it._

Cole shrugged shoving his hands into his pockets. "It's childish, unprofessional, and inappropriate. The job is not worth it."

"We should all beg off," Taub chimed in for the first time that morning. "Tell him we failed. No winners, no losers." _Figures he'd wimp out._

Amber shrugged, looking decidedly pleased. "Fine."

Cole rolled his eyes at her in disbelief. "You're going to do it, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm going to do it."

_Oh my god, they were all retarded_. Remy wasn't playing this game. If she lost this job because she didn't bribe, steal, beg or coerce, then so be it. She'd already killed a man and his dog. She figured if she were going to be fired for real, that would have been the day. For some reason he was keeping her around. It really didn't matter why.

She really just wanted to be a doctor and work with people who challenged her. Was that really so much to ask?


	4. Chapter 4

The Gauntlet

Chapter 4

"I'm serious, the lab tech in Pathology use to be a man," House said as he finished pouring what was left of the coffee.

Foreman shook his head. "And you're taking the word of the janitor on this?"

Cole looked at him dubiously from the chair across the table.

"Yah!" House scoffed. "He dated her/him/her. Saw the scars and everything."

"And he'd tell people about it?" Foreman asked incredulously.

House made an overly exaggerated disgusted face. "That's what I said."

Thirteen and Kutner rushed into the office and stood expectantly like good little soldiers ready to debrief how the surgery was going down on Shyster Magician Guy.

His leg was killing him more than usual so he was pacing the space behind the table. It was late in the afternoon and the lights were on casting a golden hue over their usually crisp, gleaming office. The effect was oddly calming.

House stared at Thirteen for a moment caught up in the reflection of the light on her auburn hair. She looked warm and soft and he thought for a minute that he'd like to have her wrap her legs around him and...

She opened her mouth and began to speak, breaking the spell. _Thank God, because he had no idea where that random thought was going._ "Surgeons have transfused three units AB positive, but they're still looking for the source of the bleed."

Shaking his head slightly to eliminate the vision of her, House glanced at Kutner. The young doctor rocked back and forth on his heals, looking decidedly please with himself. "No trauma. Could be liver disease, Vitamin K deficiency. The only thing we know for sure, it's not... _nothing_." _The little fucker actual smiled at him._

Excitedly, holding her hand out for the file, Thirteen turned to Kutner continuing in a run of breath, "And we would have noticed something chronic like liver disease, it's probably an intestinal infarct..." She cut herself off as she dropped the file into a pile of papers on the floor.

Squatting down in a flash of irrational anger, she hurriedly grasped at the papers on the floor jamming them back into the folder. Kutner quickly bent to help her pick it up because it was his fault. "Hey…no big deal…"

She flicked her head up at him. "I got it!"

Now intrigued, House narrowed his eyes curiously at her. _What a reaction?_ She just clumsily dropped a file. It was a mess, but so what.

She straightened up and regained her composure. Her eyes however had a look of … _fear_? Was he right did he just see that?

He checked Kutner. He was oblivious to her unwarranted reaction. Frowning, he wondered about this new piece of the puzzle that went by the name of Thirteen.

Taub and Amber chose this moment to enter effectively distracting him from this peculiar incident.

"Ahem." Dangling from Taub's outstretched finger was a pair of very skimpy, very transparent, black lace panties. "_Eau de Cuddy_."

How the hell did he pull that one off? _If_ he pulled it off? And he meant _quite_ literally. He narrowed his eyes at him.

Cole spun around in his seat in disbelief. "No way, how did you get them?"

Foreman let out of snort of utter incredulity.

Taub grinned in triumph. "Only one way," he boasted tossing the panties to Cole. Completely not taking his word, House reached out and caught them with the tip of his cane for further inspection.

"These are not Cuddy's panties." _That_ he would have bet money on.

Taub had the balls to look offended. "You don't think that I..."

"No," he barked. "Also, she's wearing a red bra today." Everyone turned to look at him. Cut-throat Bitch raised her eyebrows at him curiously and Thirteen gave him a slow, knowing smirk; she thought he was a giant perv to begin with and he essentially just proved her right. Rolling his eyes, he said, "Like I'm the only one who noticed. Means the downstairs will match."

Foreman, actually amused for once, chuckled. "Do your research, people." And then he was immediately back to business. "An intestinal infarct could be linked to the cardiac arrest."

There was no way those panties belong to Cuddy. She was, if anything, very particular and everything had to be just so. She would never _not_ match her panties with her bra. And her sweater was red which meant her bra was red. And he checked that hours ago when she bent over to pick up a pen he'd 'accidentally' dropped on the floor. No, these had to be someone else's panties. The little Jewish man could have gone home for lunch and picked up a pair of his wife's. But nah, that would require too much effort and he thought this was trivial. That means they had to be someone's here. The only two women who speak to him were Thirteen and Cut-throat Bitch. Thirteen had jeans on today and that meant chaffing. As smokin' hot as going commando in jeans would be, he knew it couldn't be her. Besides, the way he's been sniffing around her lately, he probably could've scoped that one out a mile away. So that left Bitch.

He lifted his chin to her as she leaned casually and disinterestedly against the wall. "Hike up your skirt."

She choked on a laugh in shock. "Wow! That's rude, even for you."

_Nailed her_. He had to give it to her; it was a bold move. "Hike it down then," he challenged. "You're wearing a black bra. Let's see the underwear."

"No!" She squirmed indignantly. _Now for damn sure he knew he was correct_.

He looked between the two co-conspirators. Both of them looked like deer caught in headlights. He smiled, despite himself, he was a little proud of their shameless deviousness. "You two cut a deal."

Amber eyed Taub who grimaced back. Knowing they were had, she stomped her foot in frustration and leaned forward grabbing her panties off the table. "If you're not cheating, you're not trying hard enough." Slipping the delicate lace into her lab coat pocket she resumed her position on the wall.

Damn he was impressed. More with himself for seeing right through their charade. _But, hmm, who knew?_

Kutner leered at her and grinned. "So you're not wearing any underwear?

"Uh, there's a guy bleeding…" Foreman interjected.

House turned to look down at him. _Spoilsport_. "Foreman?! _She's not wearing any underwear!_" He scoffed. "You used to be more fun."

Foreman threw his hands up in frustration. "She's not wearing any underwear - Big deal. When she stops wearing clothes, _then_ we can drop the medical stuff."

House chuckled and sipped is coffee. Thirteen looked at him with an amused smirk on her face. This time her smile reached her eyes. Whatever had her freaked out before had been carefully put back where it belonged. Still intrigued, he held her gaze for a while longer. Her carefully constructed façade was back, challenging him.

Bringing his eyes to the file she had dropped, he let it go and said, "Let me see the MRI film."

"We didn't get any images," Kutner replied. "He started screaming as soon as I turned it on."

_Curious_. "Define soon," he urged.

Kutner shrugged. "Uh... I didn't even get a chance to sit down."

A thought occurred to him. Every magician had a trick, an escape plan. _Especially for dangerous illusions_. "You guys ever wonder _how_ he was going to get out of that water tank?"

They all peered at him with blank confused expressions. He shook his head. _God, they had so much to learn._ "You." He pointed at Kutner." Come…"

He'd deal with Thirteen in due time. Right now he had a key to dig out of Shyster Magician Guy's intestines.


	5. Chapter 5

The Gauntlet

_A/N: We're still in _You Don't Want to Know_…will be for a while. If you're a stickler for detail like I am, and haven't watched it a hundred times like I have, them go get you're DVD's out and watch it. It's a MUST see. Because I can't take any credit for the fabulous dialog or plot besides my internal musings of the characters right now. I'm stealing shamelessly like a thief in broad daylight! Honestly these writers just give me such great stuff to work with. Ah…what fun!_

_BTW: for those following my Sessions Universe, don't think this is distracting me because it's not. I'm still WAY obsessed with that and have the next few chapters under my belt already. So don't worry._

_Thanks to those who are reading. Enjoy._

Chapter 5

House was perplexed and in a bad mood because Creepy Magician Guy was really sick. And that meant he was wrong. Which of course never sat well with him. So today he was invested in finding the answer.

Remy sat next to him at the diagnostics table watching him distractedly make a six of spades disappear and reappear in is hand. He had large hands with elegant deft fingers and was able to palm the card without it being seen. She suspected that he studied and picked apart every magic trick he ever saw when he was little. The not knowing how the trick worked probably ate at him until he'd go break it down, decipher it and reproduce it to perfection. He seemed like that kind of obsessive kid. He was that kind of obsessive adult.

That worried her sometimes. Especially now, since he'd seen her drop that folder. He'd been watching her. Not like he usually wasn't trying to figure out her personality. This was different. He was studying her, observing her. Diagnosing her. And that was not cool.

Distracted by the incessant flipping, she watched him sucked into the syncopated rhythm of it. He was wearing a pink shirt today over a black tee. It was odd because he usually never wore pink. Stranger than odd was that he actually kind of looked good in it. It made his skin look sort of tan, which was freakier than strange because he was actually a blood-sucking vampire and never went out in the light of day

He palmed the card again and popped it out, flipping it over between his thumb and forefinger. It was somehow meditative to him. "A nosebleed that major means he's actually sick," he mused aloud. "Means the cardiac arrest was a symptom." He rolled his eyes and looked at Kutner. "Stop gloating."

Kutner laughed leaning back in his chair. "I'm not gloating."

"Then what's that smirk?" he growled.

Kutner laughed and shrugged at him "No smirk, this is how I look."

"What about the underwear challenge?" Cole asked out of nowhere.

House sighed disappointedly. "I declare it officially on hold."

"Not really fair, but I get it," Cole replied when suddenly he pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. It was a pair of red lace panties. _No way…_

Everyone's eyes turned to Cole. There was no way the Mormon got Cuddy to give up her panties. She would never. Remy glanced at House. He seemed unimpressed since yesterday he'd been almost duped by Cut-throat Bitch and Taub; he was cautious to believe just any panty. Remy half expected him to pick them up and smell them to be sure.

Pointedly, he stared at Amber. With just a look, he flat out accused her of cheating again. Maybe she was trying _really_ hard to win today.

Disgustedly, Bitch stood and hooked her thumb in her waistband pulling out a rather bland, rather boring blue and white piece of her underwear. Remy chuckled. It _did_ match her sweater. She had to give to the guy. He did know his lingerie.

House tossed a look in her direction. _He couldn't possibly_… Dropping her mouth open she glared back at him in shock. _Pig_. Did he really think she stoop to such cheap tricks?

Giving her a pleased smile, he turned to the group. "It's Cuddy's." He fired a sharp look at Cole. "Pull down your pants."

Cole laughed in disbelief. "You think I'm lying?"

"No, I want to give you a reward," he ground out sarcastically. "Yes, I think you're lying."

Cole had the nerve to pout. Well, served him right for trying to pull the same stunt. He probably went out and bought a red pair last night. Anybody could have done that.

"Cardiac arrest plus nose bleed. Go." House ordered beginning the differential round disregarding the panties on the table.

Regaining her bearings, Remy spoke up first. If she was going to impress him with anything, she was going to do it by actually working, not with this thong nonsense. "Uh... patient has no significant family history, no angina, no prior attacks."

"What if it isn't his heart? What if it's the vessels around his heart?" Amber tossed in. "Polyarteritis nodosa causes cardiac symptoms and hypertension, which makes his nose bleed." She actually sounded excited by that fact this guy bled out a pint of blood from his nose this morning.

Taub raised his finger arrogantly, thinking he had a better idea. "You know what else makes your nose bleed and your heart race?" he postured looking around the table. "Cocaine. Guy works in a B-List nightclub in Atlantic City, he's got to be taking regular rolls in the snow."

Remy nodded. _Good point_. Coke was killer on the nose, which is why she'd only done it a few times at parties with that guy… what was his name? Ah whatever, that was so five years ago.

House apparently liked the idea too and pointed at the little troll. "You, take the Gloater to the patient's drug den. Make sure you pat down his pockets before you leave." He turned and stabbed the air in the direction of Cut-throat Bitch. "You and Big Love, biopsy a blood vessel from around the heart, test for Polyarteritis nodosa."

_Well great, what was she supposed to do while they all did that, go pick her ass in the clinic for him for the next three hours?_

Slowly he turned to her. He fixed his blue eyes on her seriously. She stared back at him with big eyes, perplexed and mistrustful. "You... In my office."_ Oh God, what was this about?_

He grabbed the panties off the table before turning toward his office. Remy rolled her eyes. _He still didn't think those were her panties, did he? They were cute but honestly…_

Following him into his office, she watched him round the corner of his desk. He threw them down without ceremony and sat down. The coveted undergarment had clearly lost their magical allure.

Nervously, she laughed trying to make a joke out of it. "Those aren't my panties."

"I know." He leaned back and held her gaze. "You have black on today."

Remy scoffed. _How the fuck did he know that_? "Lucky guess," she said and then tossed out a challenge. "Of course you could always find out for real."

He smiled at her. "Sorry, I left my M&M's in my other pants."

_Nice_. At least, he didn't turn tail and limp for the hills. But as quick as their flirtatious banter started, it disappeared like the card behind his hand. His eyes were a heady, sober shade of blue. He was being deadly serious.

"Hypothetical: a young woman does something clumsy in public, and instead of laughing it off, she gets irrationally upset. Explain." _Oh God, that fucking file!_ He was like a goddamn dog with a bone.

Remy figured sarcasm was her best out. Diversion, slight of hand, illusion. She was good at that. "Maybe she's clumsy because she's nervous," she spoke deliberately. He got up and moved close to her, which threw her a little off balance. _Why was he standing so close to her?_ "Because… she forgot to do her spelling homework. Oh," she paused, "… in my hypothetical, she's eight."

He continued to advance on her and she had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. "But this girl's not insecure," he said. "Seems more like she's afraid." His voice was low and gravely and his set his jaw firmly in a challenge for her to dispute his observations. Her eyes fixed on the smooth skin of his lips fringed with the speckled graying stubble around his mouth. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if it would be scratchy and rough if he kissed her. She opened her mouth and breathed out a sigh.

He was so close to her now she could smell the scent of his soap on his skin. It filled her nostrils with its clean scent mingled with the essence of man. _Oh my, he smelled good_. _Did he always smell this way? _She closed her eyes and flicked her tongue out to moisten her lips. "Do you have a point, or did you just get a new book of riddles?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and breathed. "I think you're hiding a medical condition."

_Wow. That was like a bucket of ice water. _

She stepped back, irritated that he had the gall to accuse her of such a thing.

"I'm not." Grabbing her lab coat, she slipped it over her arms and plastered on her trademark smile. "I'm glad we had this talk."

Stepping toward her once more, he continued to keep his eyes locked on hers. "Doctors often try to ignore their symptoms because they think they can't get sick. If you've got something going on, I need you to take care of it."

She lifted her chin, impudently. "And I take your compassion entirely at face value."

He almost laughed at her. "It's not compassion. It's self-interest. I want my team healthy."

Now she did laugh. "It's not self interest. It's curiosity," she persisted. "I dropped a file, House. I start bleeding from the eyes, I'll be sure to make an appointment."

He paused for a beat checking to see if she was sincere. He was dubious. But that was all he was going to get. He'd have to take it or leave it. Nodding curtly, he stepped back away from her taking all of his heat with him, surprisingly leaving her feeling cold and empty.

"Ok," was all he said.

Hastily, Remy stepped backwards out of his electric energy. She turned and rushed out of the office. She had to get away; away from him. _How dare he?_ How dare he observe her, and prod her and stand so close to her. How dare he immerse himself in her personal space? _How dare he make her feel?_

She rounded the corner to the doctors' lounge and paused leaning on the wall to catch her breath. She thrust her chilled hands between her legs and leaned over trembling with unbridled anger, confusion and need.

She had spent so many years constructing this perfectly guarded persona. So many years she traveled this life by herself. She was fine not having anybody to rely on. She was ok not having anyone to confide in. She'd been alone for a very, very long time. And that suited her. It's what she was used to, what she wanted. But now, now he was there making assumptions about her. Finding every little chink in her armor so he could figure her out. Get an answer to his damn puzzle. _How dare he?_

_How dare he be so close to the truth…_


	6. Chapter 6

The Gauntlet

Chapter 6

"_People come because they want a sense of wonder. They want to experience something that they can't explain."_

House pondered this statement. The magician was a jackass. People were idiots; they were fooled by the shinny lights and the slight of hand. And they lived in delusions that life could and _should be_ lived without the knowing. There was nothing magical about magic. It could all be explained. The meaning was in the knowing.

_If the wonder's gone when the truth is known, there never was any wonder. It was meaningless._

Shyster Magician Guy had Tularaemia from his rabbits. Simple. Unimpressive. Boring.

Limping across the lobby to the elevators, House stepped inside and turned around. Noticing Big Love scurry across the floor to catch the ride, House blocked the sliding doors with his cane. Not because he felt like doing something nice but rather because he needed the explanation of exactly how he pulled it off. Literally.

House stared at him wiling him to tell him his darkest secret. "How'd you do it?"

The black man looked at him with his big round eyes. "So I'm safe?"

"In this job, yeah," he replied and then tilted his head and made a face. "Crotch, on the other hand... How'd you do it?"

Cole smirked. "Prayer mostly." The elevator dinged and the doors slid open on their floor.

House followed him down the corridor to his office. "Just tell me, does Cuddy have her groove back?" He was insanely curious. Was this religious dud of a black man actually able to get Cuddy to show him her Garden of Eden?

Cole put on a proper face. "It'd be rude of me to discuss."

House grunted. "You handed over her panties. I don't think gallantry's really an option at this point."

House pushed the door to his office open and Cole followed him continuing to wear his triumphant smirk. "If I tell you then where's the magic?" he taunted.

Kutner, Thirteen, Amber and Taub skidded to a halt in front of House's office before filing in one by one.

Kutner rushed in first. "He passed out. Ultrasound revealed bleeding around his heart, we drained 100 CC's before it stopped."

Cut-throat Bitch stepped forward lest she be outshined. "The antibiotics aren't working. It's obviously not Tularaemia or any other infection."

House took his coat off and draped it over the back of his chair before sitting down. They were blurting symptoms and diagnosis at him and he hadn't even had his morning coffee or nap. They sounded like yapping puppies searching for a teat.

Taub jumped in. "Bleeding around the heart could mean botched biopsy, when Cole was looking for the..."

"Why would you accuse the man who decides your fate of screwing up?" House leaned back in his chair and cradled his coffee cup in his hand.

Taub tilted his head like a little dog that heard the squeaky ball. "Those really were her panties?"

House nodded. "Cole has travelled through the forest of crustaceans and brought us a treasure, _and_ he has earned his reward."

Sitting down in one of the chairs in front of his desk, Cole folded his hands primly over his lap. "If I could just get the immunity, I would..."

House flattened a stared at him. "No, _Sophie_, you can't. Use whatever criteria you want."

Thirteen sat down on the ottoman to his lounge chair. Her hair was pulled back a little today and cascaded down her shoulders in waves. She was wearing a decidedly feminine blouse in an icy gray that set off her eyes. Interesting that he noticed that this early in the morning. But how could he not, she was gorgeous. "Could be a clotting issue," she suggested not meeting his eyes as she sipped her coffee. _Hmm… She was still mad at him for yesterday._

"If he developed DIC after the surgery," the bitch's voice screeched into his thoughts. "Even a normal biopsy bleeds out of control." _Yes, yes, yes, DIC leads to uncontrolled bleeding…. Blah, blah. _ She had to be that one annoying kid in class who always had her arm plastered to the side of her head dancing out of her chair for the teacher to call on her for the right answer.

Tiredly, he waved his hand in the air. "So cardiac arrest and DIC, what's the common denominator?" he prompted.

Taub stepped forward with is hands in his trouser pockets thrusting the sides of his lab coat behind him like wings. "Could be cancer."

Thirteen chimed in. "We've been looking in his chest since he got here, it's clean." _Now_ she chose to actually deign him with a look of acknowledgement because she wanted him to back up her opinion. He shrugged instead.

"So the main mass is somewhere else, throws up a clot, blocks an artery in his heart, causes the arrest," Taub argued. House watched her for her reaction but she was looking down at her hands on the folder in her lap. She was trying to put her pen cap back on but her hands were shaking making it difficult to hit her mark. Their eyes met for a brief second while she sighed in resigned frustration. _Interesting_. Call him crazy but she actually looked concerned.

Sighing, he sipped his coffee. "Good," he spoke to no one in particular. "Go find out where he's hiding his cancer."

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

House jerked the handle to spin his player effectively blocking Wilson's advance to send the ball into his goal. Foosball was always a great way to pass the time when no one could figure out what was killing their patient. It was very cathartic.

"You knew they'd get paged?" Wilson asked him stupidly.

"I noticed a trend... If nobody does anything, sick people often get sicker." He blocked another shot stopping the ball with is forward's foot. Repositioning it, he set up his own shot. He had way more important preoccupations on his mind. Like Cuddy spreading it for Cole. "You think it's remotely possible they had sex?" Cuddy would never sleep with a guy like Cole… unless of course she were that desperate.

Wilson shrugged causing him to lose control and House took advantage sending the ball careening into his goal. Wilson sighed. "They're both single, it's still legal in the blue states."

Placing the ball back into play, House turned his players upright. He made a disgusted face. "She barely knows him." The thought was just disturbing.

Wilson flicked his eyes at him, careful not to lose sight of the ball again. "You know, in some cultures, hiring people to steal someone's underpants is considered wooing. You should move there. Because here it's just, you know…_creepy_."

Every fiber of House's being railed out in protest. "There was no _woo_," he stated adamantly. The last person he wanted to woo was Cuddy. "Been there done that, got the sunburn. No thanks."

"They why ask for the panties?"

"A test," he declared.

"Get the results you wanted?"

"Uh huh."

"This kind of subterfuge is clearly beneath my skills," Wilson marveled. "What's up with Thirteen?"

"What?" His head shot up to stare at Wilson.

The clank of the ball against the metal backstop startled him. _Fuck_. Wilson just scored.

"Whoa, ho ho, that was interesting," Wilson announced with a pompous laugh.

House drew his eyebrows together. "There's nothing up."

"Judging by that reaction, I think there is," he argued dropping the ball back onto the table. "You had dinner together last week," he reminded him.

"It was not a date," he insisted.

"Mmm, who paid?"

"It was not a date."

"You paid?" He stared at him incredulously. "You actually paid for food. For another person? In a restaurant?"

"It was NOT a date!"

"Oh YES it was!"

The door opened and Kutner entered in a flurry. "Kidneys are shutting down. Led to a sodium deficiency, caused him to seize…" Thirteen followed after him. _Damn his luck_.

"Kidney failure means I was right about Amyloidosis," he said avoiding Wilson's eyes and Thirteen's. Thank God for Kutner. _Wait, did he actually just think that?_

Thirteen stepped forward in the room, the closest she'd been to him all day. "Except that nothing in his medical history remotely indicates Amyloidosis." _Amyloi-what?_ Was she speaking French to him? He swallowed hard. That gray shirt he'd noticed this morning looked even better close up.

"So kidney failure proves I'm right about the bad blood," Kutner continued with a confident grin.

House shook his head and turned away from them limping over to the fridge to grab a bottle of _Jolt_. He needed a kick in the ass. Or the head. Both would work to get his mind off how that top curved over her pert little breasts. _What the fuck?_

Running his hand over his face, he drank a long pull from the plastic bottle. "Bad blood doesn't explain the heart or the liver."

"His major symptoms didn't start until after we transfused him," Kutner objected.

_God sometimes he was dense_. "Is cardiac arrest no longer considered a 'major symptom'?"

Kutner rolled his eyes. "Not when it's caused by drowning."

"So your new theory is that you were an idiot to take this case?"

"Yes," he deadpanned. "Can I go test that theory now?"

House shook his head declining. "Waste of time," he stated, chancing a glance at her. Now, she was going to be mad because he was going to refute her previous explanation. "He needs a bone marrow transplant for the Amyloidosis."

Wilson chimed in. "You'd have to irradiate him first. If they're right about the blood, you'd be destroying his immune system for nothing." House stared hard at Wilson, which clearly meant 'shut the fuck up' yet he continued yammering, "Which _could_ be a good thing," he tried to amend not taking the hint completely in context. "Does he have a really crappy life?"

Rolling his eyes, House ignored him and pointed at the door. "Go prove I'm right. Do a subcutaneous fat biopsy."

Stepping forward, to within three feet of him, now truly the closest she'd been to him all day, she appealed to his logical side, "At least let us eliminate the bad blood theory, check the blood banks for mismarks and contamination." Her hands were out in front of her as she pled her case. First her fingers and then her whole hand began to tremble. Her eyes dropped to her hands and then she looked at the floor away from his penetrating stare as she thrust her hands into her pockets so he could no longer see them. He frowned at her. And she looked away.

"You've got two hours."

"That's completely arbitrary," Kutner protested.

"No, if I'd said that you got three lunar months, that'd be completely arbitrary. _Two hours_ is how long it's going to take Big Love to finish a biopsy that you guys _can't do_ because you're wasting two hours checking blood." The two doctors promptly turned on their heals to leave, though not before he got in one last look at Thirteen. Her face was a stony mask. She'd retreated behind her façade again. But there was still something lurking behind her eyes. He would find out. That she could count on.

They left and House turned his attention back to Wilson and their foosball game. "Nine – Three."

"Five – all," he corrected. _Man, he could never pull that one of and get away with it…_

House threw the ball into the center and they started to play again.

"What were all those lingering, poignant looks all about?"

"Nothing."

Wilson snorted. "Uh huh."


	7. Chapter 7

The Gauntlet

Chapter 7

House was an idiot. With a death wish. He had to be, because Remy had never seen a man risk his life so many times just to find out answers. So what did that make her? His accomplice? His Angel of Death? It'd be kind of appropriate all things considering…

Remy hung the bag of blood from the rack in preparation for his transfusion and subsequent biopsies. They were testing Kutner's theory of contaminated blood that might have been causing all of Creepy Magician Guy's symptoms. They couldn't biopsy the patient because he would bleed to death so in House's fucked up mind, he was the logical choice. Of course, because he also just so happened to be AB type blood. _Figures_.

He watched her quietly from the reclining chair in the transfusion lab, his eyes following her with every move she made. He sat there contently eating cookies like a four year old camped out in front of the TV watching his favorite cartoon. It was a little disconcerting now that he suspected she had a terminal disease. Last week she might have been a little excited by it. Now it just felt, well…it felt too intimate.

"I have a new theory," he announced chewing a bite from his cookie. "You're not stubborn." He waited for her response but when he didn't get any, he continued. "You're not getting it checked because you already know the answer."

Hanging another bag, she looked at him pointedly. _Didn't he get that she didn't want to talk about it?_

"I found an old picture in your wallet," he told her.

_Oh God!_ He didn't. She closed her eyes. She should have known he'd snoop around her things. _Damnit, she didn't see that one coming_. "Of course you did."

"I wasn't snooping," he defended himself and rolled his head lazily to the side. "I needed lunch money."

Damnit, now she had to take his blood pressure, which meant she had to face him, which meant she had to look at him while she was touching his arm. _Asshole_.

"Figured it's your mom," he persisted. "Except she looks about 32 years old."

She pumped up the cuff tightly as he continued to chew another cookie. She kept pumping and pumping. One…two…three more pumps. Feeling the blood no longer travel to his fingers because his arm was in a vice, he gave her a curious look and wiggled his hand to relieve some of the pressure. "The only reason not to update a photo in twenty-odd years is she's not talking to you, which would be interesting, or she's dead." He waited a beat before adding, "which would also be interesting."

Remy set her jaw firm. She hated him right now. Really, truly hated him.

Surprisingly, his eyes softened. "She's dead," he surmised.

Not one to admit to anything, or give him the satisfaction that he got to her, she rose and quipped, "So's Grover Cleveland."

Remy crossed to the other side of the room and busied herself with cleaning up some of the paraphernalia so she wouldn't have to face him. _Really big asshole_.

She could still see him out of the corner of her eye. His head was still lolling casually to the side as if they were talking about what her favorite kind of pizza was. "Pretty young to have a dead mom," he droned on. "You were even younger twenty years ago." And then he dropped his bomb. "I Googled her obituary."

Remy's eyes flashed with anger. _Of course he did_. It wasn't enough to find a picture in her wallet. It only added fuel to the fire. Now he had another question, another clue to be solved.

He brought his eyes to hers. There was a seriousness there she almost didn't recognize. "Said she died at Newhaven Presbyterian after a long illness. Parkinson's?" he guessed.

Remy felt weak. Suddenly the wind left her lungs and she felt a wave of sadness come over her that she hadn't felt in twenty years. All of her carefully constructed walls crumbled to rubble at her feet. She knew that she had to tell him the truth. She couldn't hide it from him. He would only find out eventually. He'd push and push, dig and dig until he had his answer. _Damn him._

Before her legs gave out on her, she found the seat with her hand and sat down with her back to him. Her shoulders were heavy and they slumped with the tremendous burden she had been carrying for so long. "Huntington's Chorea." It came out on a whisper of a breath like she hadn't even spoken the words.

"I'm sorry." She looked at him then. His voice was quiet and full of legitimate compassion. His face was soft and his eyes were heavy with regret. She felt the tears well up in her eyes and she fought to push them back down deep where she had hid them. She couldn't cry in front of him, because she just hadn't cried in twenty years.

"I'm leaving when this case is over," she told him.

"No you're not." It was an order, spoken softly with compassion, but a refusal to let her go nonetheless.

"You don't want a doctor on your team who's slowly losing control of her body and mind," she went on disregarding his objection. He knew what this disease could do…

"Huntington's isn't the only thing that causes tremors," he said resuming the pursuit of his cookie.

"You think it's just a coincidence?" she demanded at a loss.

He rolled his head to the side sheepishly. "I think you're the only one on the team who drinks decaf."

_What? What was he talking about? Coffee?_

"I've been switching it out with regular ever since you dropped that file. You're trembling because you're hopped up on caffeine. The first file wasn't my fault. Medical explanation for _that_ is... People drop things."

She turned to face him full on. Caffeine? He dosed her with caffeine? _That son of a bitch._ Incensed, she almost reeled back and hit him. "I've been walking around thinking I'm dying."

"You are," he insisted arrogantly.

"You don't know that," she shot back.

He shrugged. Now it wasn't personal anymore. It was diagnostic. All traces of his humanity were gone. "With Huntington's, it's inevitable."

"No, you don't know, because I don't know!"

He looked at her like she had actually hit him. "How could you not get tested?" He blinked a few times utterly baffled. "If your mom had it, it's a fifty percent chance, you're a bomb waiting to explode."

She shook her head closing her eyes. Of course he wouldn't understand. Him and his damned knowing. "Not knowing makes me do things I think I'm scared to do, take flying lessons, climb Kilimanjaro… _work for you_…" She looked at him then, her eyes locked on his deep blue ones.

He stared back at her for a long moment just watching her. He drew his eyebrows together contemplating something that both confused and angered him a little.

"Yeah because if you knew, you couldn't do any of those things," he said to her with faint sarcasm. Even he couldn't muster sincerity in that statement.

Remy frowned and gazed at him thinking that he was probably the best, most terrifying job she ever had. It would suck to have to go because there was ironically still so much more to know. About the patients, about the medicine…_about him_.

_Oh God. Something was wrong. _

He frowned at her. "What?"

"You're sweating." She lifted her knuckles to his forehead. His skin was on fire. "You're burning up. House... You're sick."

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

_Okay so maybe she shouldn't have drugged him._ But he deserved it. That asshole essentially drugged her with a foreign substance without her consent to make her believe she was presenting with symptoms. Never mind that it was something as benign as caffeine. It still had an effect as strong as a real drug.

So fuck him. Let him be pissed once he woke up. He wasn't the only one who could play underhanded games.

He groaned again and blinked his eyes slowly as he woke from his narcotic-induced slumber. Remy held in a satisfied little chuckle as she watched him struggle to come to. He looked like a lion that had been tranquilized in the wild and unsuspectingly woke up in the zoo.

Taking a sip from her water bottle, she smiled at him and bat her eyelashes coquettishly.

"Patient dead yet?" he inquired with much effort.

"No."

Being the impatient ass that he was, he tried to move off the table only to find he had been tied down in restraints. He looked at his hands and raised an eyebrow at her. "That's a little much for a first date."

Leaning in close, she smiled. "Shoulda brought some M&M's tough guy, because obviously you've never dated me."

He went to make a witty retort but was hindered by a sharp pain in his side. Wincing he settled back against the table. "Feels like you already got the... lung and kidney samples."

"Now I just need a piece of your liver," she informed him grabbing the long biopsy needle.

She swabbed the area with a cotton ball, a slow devious, smirk on her lips.

His eyes widened nervously. "Hey, you might want to use a little bit of lidocaine..."

"Oh yeah, I forgot." She jabbed the needle into him with a little too much pleasure and he groaned out in mind numbing pain. "Slight pinch."

She smirked at him watching his eyes roll back in his head feeling satisfied that she'd exacted her revenge. If she didn't know better she would have described his expression somewhat akin to orgasmic ecstasy. _Interesting_…

His endorphins kicking in to quell the raging pain in his gut, he breathed a few times and regarded her for a moment. A slight smile graced his lips. "You drugged me." _Was that respect she heard in his voice? Or maybe it was desire?_

"You drugged me," she countered slyly. With deliberate movements that were slow and calculated, she leaned over his lap and unbuckled the restraint from his left wrist. She flicked her eyes to look at his. As she did so, she was rewarded with expression of clear and unchecked craving. _He wanted her_. She arched an eyebrow and moved slowly over him skimming his hips lightly with her chest causing him to inhale a swift breath as she went to untie his other hand.

With his hands now free, he tried to rise to sitting but she pushed him gently back down and leaned in close to his ear. "Just rest. I wouldn't want you to over tax yourself."

He turned his nose to her cheek and inhaled the scent of her skin. "Next time I won't forget the M&M's."

She smiled slowly at him and rose, quickly turning on her heal to leave him alone in the chair.

She pushed through the glass door and into the corridor. Involuntarily, her hand rose to her cheek where his lips had skimmed her skin as he spoke. Now she didn't have to wonder if his stubble was rough. It was remarkably soft to the touch and tickled, leaving tiny currents of electricity in its wake. _Definitely interesting_.


	8. Chapter 8

The Gauntlet

Chapter 8

Remy watched him parade in like a courtier carrying the crown jewels on a gilded pillow. Except it wasn't red rubies he was carrying. It was the red lacy thong of the Dean of Medicine on a sofa pillow. Leave it to him to treat a garment like that with such honor and reverence.

He crossed the floor of the lecture hall and came to stand before Cole.

Each one of these tribal councils became harder and harder. Each one took a little more out of him: one, to come up with something witty to underplay the fact that he was firing someone and two, to hide the fact that he really didn't enjoy being a dick when it came to someone's actual livelihood. And for that Remy had sympathy.

"Big Love, rise," he instructed solemnly.

Cole stood up slowly. House got down on one knee, which surprised her. She didn't think he could put that much pressure on his leg. Maybe he pre-gamed with a few extra Vicodin. Lifting the pillow above his head, he intoned, "Use their power wisely, my lord."

Cole took the thong off the pillow as instructed. House stood up and tossed the pillow on his desk. Turning back, he urged Cole with a look as he leaned on his cane. Maybe not so much Vicodin, he was holding his body stiffly like the biopsies still smarted.

"I nominate... Amber," Cole announced to the room.

"Cut-throat bitch, rise." Amber stood up and gave a look to Cole. She glared at him like he'd just betrayed her.

"You're surprised?" House jeered. "You're everyone's pick." He turned to Cole, "Next victim."

"I nominate..." there was a lengthy pause of hesitation. "Kutner."

Remy was shocked. She looked at Taub who was next to her and he look dumfounded too. Poor Kutner he looked _truly_ betrayed as he rose slowly from his chair.

House couldn't believe it either. "Now everyone's surprised," he muttered to the room. "Why?"

Cole had the nerve to look irritated. "You said I don't have to justify my picks."

Now House looked pissed. "No... I said you could use whatever criteria you want, doesn't mean I don't want to know."

House paced back and forth around the front of the desk in the little space at the bottom of the steps before finally stopping in front of Kutner. "He was right about this being a real case, he was right about the botched transfusion _and_ _he's your love nugget_. You've got no reason to pick him."

Cole hung his head in shame and stared at the ground avoiding everyone's questioning stares.

And then the light bulb went of in House's head. He pointed at Cole to emphasize his words. "But somebody else does," he began. "Kutner's a liability. He electrocuted himself, lit a patient on fire, it's only a matter of time before he burns the hospital down." His sharp eyes narrowed into angry slits and he stalked back to Cole. "You made a deal with Cuddy. That's how you got her underwear. She sold it to you for the right to put her choices on the block."

Cole looked confused. _Was he really that much of an idiot?_ "You said get her underwear, I got it."

House glared at him. "Your scheme was brilliant... and you're fired."

Remy's mouth dropped open. _Wow_. Taub stifled a surprised grunt beside her. Amber practically jumped for joy. Remy couldn't believe he just fired him. No one could.

"You're all about breaking the rules," Cole stammered.

"Her rules, not mine." Remy watched House's face contort into a kaleidoscope of emotions. He was angry, he was betrayed but mostly he was disappointed. "The whole point of this was to subvert Cuddy. You became her partner, gave her power she didn't already have. Let her greedy fingers into my cookie jar, which, sadly, is not as dirty as it sounds." He gave him a regretful look. "Thanks for playing."

And with that, House limped heavily out of the room leaving them to give Cole their commiserations and condolences.

Kutner left without a backward glance at Cole.

Remy's heart ached for everyone. No one came away from this one unscathed except maybe Taub. For some reason he was able to stay out of House's radar. Good for him.

She went back to the locker room to gather her things and go home. It had to be almost midnight again. She was tired and felt like she could sleep for days.

When she reached in to the top of her locker to pull out her purse, a letter fell out. Curious, she bent and picked it up.

Reading the front, she stood up immediately and exited the locker room in a fury.

_That son of a bitch!_

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

House was pissed. That conspiring bitch found another way to worm her way into his process. She took his game and turned it against him. Well, fuck her. He had the last say. He always had the last say.

He put his coat on and placed his book into his knapsack. It was late. He was tired and he needed a drink.

"What the hell is this?" Thirteen stalked into his office and slapped down an envelope onto his desk. _Great_. He knew exactly what it was. He'd ordered the test so the stubborn little minx could find out for sure if she was dying sooner than the rest of the world.

She was pissed that much was very clear. Evidently she wanted to make a thing about this. Slowly, he picked up the envelope and held it in front of his face to pretend to read it. "Hmm. Looks like an envelope with the results of the genetic test for Huntington's inside."

She swallowed hard and rung her hands together nervously in front of her. "Did you look?" Her usual husky voice had risen an octave to terrified.

He sighed. "I thought it'd be fun to find out together."

"I don't want to know." Her eyes were wild with fear. She looked like a cornered tigress.

"No, you're _afraid to know_," he told her.

Apparently, this news sparked something in her and she advanced on him. Rounding the corner of his desk, she came to stand right in front of him ironically like he had done the other day when he'd first insisted she was sick. "I might die," she admitted forcefully. "So could you, you could get hit by a bus tomorrow. The only difference is you don't have to know about it _today_, so _why_ should I?" Her eyes were rimmed in her black mascara and liner, making them look more feline than he'd ever noticed before. They were sharp and mysterious and full of fire because she was furious with him. He almost regretted taking her water bottle for testing after she had taunted him so seductively in the biopsy lab. There was nothing of that playfulness let in her right now. Just unmitigated betrayal. It was apparently the theme for the evening.

He had to make her see how he perceived this situation. He had to make her understand; to make her understand his actions… to understand him. "I don't have to know the lottery numbers, but if someone offered them to me, I'd take them."

Her breath caught in her throat and she stepped closer to him. He could smell the intoxicating scent of her hair and the subtle spice of her perfume as they enveloped him in a haze between reality and fantasy. Her anger had caused a lovely flush to settle in the creamy skin of her neck and down to her chest. She was absolutely exhilarating. He thought he might actually reach out and touch her for a second until her eyes flashed at him. "You spend your whole life looking for answers. Because you think the next answer will change something, maybe make you a little less _miserable_. And you know that when you run out of questions, you don't just run out of _answers_, you run out of _hope_. You glad you know _that_?"

Her breath caressed his skin as she lectured him but her words hit him like slap.

He stared at her for a long time. She held his gaze breathing heavily in her outrage. They were trapped there magnetically in trance of shared anger, misery and yearning to be understood. Her mouth parted slightly and he moved ever so minutely. He wanted to kiss her and let her know it didn't matter; they were all dying, some sooner than others. She was so beautiful and he was being sucked into to her aura. Something stirred, somewhere, a sound in the distance broke the spell and he stepped back in shock, catching himself suddenly before he did something stupid.

She closed her eyes and hung her head taking a breath. She lifted her eyes to his showing him her sadness and disappointment. He had hurt her. _With everything_. She left the room and all he could do was watch her go.

He looked at the enveloped he'd forgotten about on the desk. He wondered briefly when he'd dropped it there. Solemnly, he lifted the corner with his fingertips letting the sharp edge metaphorically cut into his fingers. Picking it up fully, he held it for a second contemplating whether to open in. He dropped it into the bin unopened. Slinging his backpack on his shoulder, he walked out of the office without another thought.

He'd let her have her hope.


	9. Chapter 9

The Gauntlet

Chapter 9

_Five days_. Five days had passed since Remy had received that letter in her locker. Five days of walking around with the knowledge that someone else knew about her secret burden. Five days since she discovered there was an honest to goodness real answer to her inevitable question… '_Am I dying_?'

And those same five days were spent in utter silence.

She basically ignored him and he her. There was a palpable tension between them but no one really seemed to notice. She was furious with him and he… well she wasn't exactly sure how he felt nor did she care what was wrong with him. He could go fuck himself for all she cared. He knew her secret and that infuriated her. It was like he owned a little piece of her now and he was holding onto it to use it against her whenever he chose. Except he didn't say anything… _at all_. And that, itself, was suspect.

House never let something as earth shattering as this go. Every time he found dirt on someone he used it to his advantage to manipulate and con and get his way. He was a bottom-feeding opportunist, the prefect venture capitalist; she had figured that out on day one of this whole sordid affair. If it benefited him in some way shape or form, he was all for it. But this tacit silence from him was uncharacteristic and weird.

He could have fired her. He should have fired her for withholding such critical information about herself. He could have kept Cole and let her go. Hell, he could have fired both of them. He was surely betrayed by Cole's going behind his back to Cuddy. Cole deserved it. But why keep her? He had gone to such lengths to test her for Huntington's yet after her angry tirade in his office, he backed down? He didn't speak to her, didn't look at her, nor did he wave it in her face that she was dying. He knew the results. He had his precious answer and yet he didn't tell her what he had so cleverly, clandestinely discovered. He didn't say one word to her about it. In fact, he hadn't said one word to her all week about anything. All he'd done was throw his nametag at her to go do his clinic duty. That was his sole communication with her in five whole days.

But it was game time again. And this time they were playing for keeps. This was their final case.

Two nights ago a punk rocker had come into the ER with repeated trauma, self-cutting, fever, arthralgia, hyper inflated chest, fatigue, anemia, plus blood in the stool _and_ urine. He was a perfect textbook case of drug abuse. The D.A.R.E. program couldn't have paraded around a more perfect example of 'this is what happens to you when you do drugs, kids'. He had every possible symptom and it was killing him. Not to mention, he was belligerent, anti-social, anarchic, and an ass. _Oh my God, he was House! _

They had been assigned points. She and Taub were in the lead with their full 100 points while Cut-throat Bitch had lost all of hers because the stupid idiot had allowed Punk Rock Guy to go into a bathroom alone with an oxygen tank. Talk about Kutner being a liability to the hospital, Amber let a guy blow himself up. Oh yeah, and then she let him mainline nicotine through ALL of his nicotine patches for his smoking withdrawal. She was in the negative on points and she still wouldn't let go of the fact that she thought everything could be explained by the drugs.

"He has schistocytes in his blood smear. Which means the DIC's causing clotting. What's causing the DIC?" House turned to the room, minus Taub and Foreman because they were somehow excluded from this round. Thirteen didn't even want to contemplate why.

"Drug impurities," Amber started immediately. Remy rolled her eyes. _Here we go again._

House stared at her. "You lost your round."

"New symptom, new round," she contested. "This _has_ to be drug related."

Remy threw her hands up in the air. She was getting so tired of her prejudicial attitude. "This is how doctors kill patients. By seeing the stereotype instead of the truth." The Bitch couldn't wrap her pretty little prep-school head around the fact that this guy had chosen to take the alternative subversive routes in life. That maybe things weren't perfect and he made poor decisions about how to live. She attributed every problem he had to the drugs.

Amber turned to her and argued. "_Drug addicts_ use _drugs_ is a stereotype? _Drugs_ are _bad_ is a stereotype? _Losers lose_ is...

Ignoring the tirade, Remy turned to House making eye contact with him for the first time in five days. _Enough if this bullshit_. "Malaria." He nodded, considering her statement.

Kutner shook his head as he piped in. "He hasn't left the country in years."

"Malaria's relapsing-recurring. For all we know, he could have been sick for years," she explained. "It explains not just the DIC and the bleeding, but the tiredness, the fever…"

Amber rolled her eyes.

"…everything we attributed to drugs," Remy insisted.

Cut-throat Bitch inelegantly snorted in disbelief. "Oh, yeah, it's much more likely that this ass punk rocker was exposed to _malaria_ than _drugs_?

House leaned on the top of the white board with his arm dangling off, his thumb running over his mouth. "If you were always right, then you wouldn't have just been wrong," he said to Amber. "Or let the patient mainline nicotine. Or ravaged my anatomical model, which Grandma House bought me when I aced my MCATs."

Kutner smirked and leaned back in his chair. "A pharmaceutical rep left that here on Tuesday."

House limped to the table and picked up the plastic eyeball. "Grandma does some part-time work." _Oh my god! Did he just wink at her?_

Kutner gave him one of those conspiratorial 'guy' looks. "The rep was a thirty-something babe."

House waggled his eyebrows, this time at Kutner. "Thank you. I got her hips." _Was he being flirty? She couldn't tell._

Turning to Remy, he extended the eyeball out for her to take it. He pursed his lips together in a wry little smirk as her eyes met his. "Carry it with pride."

Remy couldn't help but smile, pleased with herself for one-upping Nancy Reagan and her 'just say no to drugs' mantra. But surprisingly, she was really more pleased with herself for having him actually acknowledge her for the first time in five days, weird flirty eyebrows and all. She took the eyeball from him and their fingers accidentally touched. For brief second, electricity sparked between them. _Literally_.

She felt the pop of an electric shock on her thumb. Startled, she let out a gasp and then laughed self-consciously.

Reeling back in surprise, he almost dropped the eyeball. He smiled nervously and then recovered righting the silly little model. "Sorry."

Reaching out again, Remy grasped the round part of the eyeball taking hold of the figure careful not to touch his fingers again. She gave him a secretive little smile and then left the room to run her tests.

Out in the corridor, she thought to herself that he was so cute when he was flustered. Which was incredibly stupid because she shouldn't be thinking about him that way. He was her boss, at least until they cured this patient, but maybe afterward, as well, if he decided to hire her for good. And as a boss House was anything but cute.

And yet… as a guy who had no idea how to deal with people on a normal human level, he was he was actual adorable. He was trying really hard to be casual and friendly with her. To make her comfortable. What was all that 'Grandma House stuff' with the eyeball, anyway? For such a self-proclaimed tough guy, he was a real dork sometimes.

A/N: Just in case all you young'ns didn't get the Nancy Reagan reference, shame on you for not paying attention in you US History class! Nancy Reagan was First Lady in the 80's (President Reagan's wife) and pioneered the 'just say no to drugs program' that sparked the D.A.R.E. programs in schools. It was a huge anti-drug movement that still remains today. It was a perfect reference for CB in this chapter so I couldn't resist. Educational and FUN to read!


	10. Chapter 10

The Gauntlet

Chapter 10

House leaned back in Wilson's desk chair. "I have to give Cuddy a decision by Friday or she'll take my parking spot."

Wilson continued to examine his patient's x-ray films on the light box hanging on his wall across from his desk. "Have you decided who you're going to pick?"

"Nope," he said popping the 'p'. Distractedly he fiddled with a pen rolling it between his thumb and forefingers.

"You haven't narrowed it down even a little bit?"

"Nope," he repeated.

"You've assigned them points I've heard," Wilson placed his hands on his hips and looked at him.

"A little _black_bird tell you that?" he raised an eyebrow at him. _Foreman and his righteous attitude._

"Yeah, something about you playing games with a patient's life," Wilson said in mock horror. "I said, 'I couldn't believe you would stoop to such irresponsibility'."

"I'm not being irresponsible, I know every move they're making," he argued tossing the pen onto the desk. "I'm exercising the spirit of competition."

"So who's in first?" Wilson asked curiously bringing his attention back to the x-rays.

House frowned and ran his hand over his forehead. "Thirteen."

Wilson arched an eyebrow at him over his shoulder. "Oh?"

"Oh nothing. Taub's next, but tat's because he's keeping Foreman off my ass," he said. "Kutner then CB."

Wilson flicked off the light and pulled the films down replacing them into their folder. He peered at him from under his dubiously raised eyebrows. "Is Thirteen really in first or do you just want her to be there so you don't have to fire her?"

"She's the only one who's been right so far," he stated, albeit a little defensively. "She has the eyeball right now."

Wilson's brows furrowed in confusion. "I don't even know what that means."

"It's not important," he waved his hand at him dismissively. He breathed in a sigh. "Do you think my judgment is skewed?"

Wilson shrugged. "Do _you_ think your judgment is skewed?"

"I'm asking you," he ground out frustratedly as he picked up the pen again and tapped it in a syncopated rhythm on the edge of the desk.

Wilson placed the films on his desk and took the seat that House normally sat in. "Well, how do you feel about her?"

House pursed his lips together and took in a long breath. He let it out slowly wiggling the corners of his lips side to side in thought. Now there was a question he'd been mulling around his brain for the last five days. _How did he feel about Thirteen?_

_Hmm_… she was intelligent, beautiful, sarcastic, funny, sexy, mysterious and…

… _possibly dying._

House didn't quite know how he felt about that. It confused him, tied him up in knots and made him want to hold her and tell it was all going to be ok; all of which were so very not him. Yet every ounce of who he was felt the desperate need to close himself off to her so he wouldn't become invested because inevitably she was only going to leave, by death or by choice before her disease ravaged her body. That was of course, if she were positive, which he didn't know because he'd thrown out the results like a lovesick idiot.

So, instead of all of those very convoluted things, he said, "She's a good doctor, not afraid to take risks, cares about doing a good job, about doing the right thing."

"I didn't ask you how you felt about her as a doctor, I asked how you felt about her, Remy Hadley, the woman."

"Who?"

"_Thirteen_, you ass," Wilson grumbled.

"I know her name," he muttered. "I just don't…"

There was a faint knock on the door and then it opened. _Surprise, surprise, her ears must have been ringing._

Wilson turned toward the door and then brought his eyes back to toss a knowing glance at him.

He ignored Wilson and tipped his head at her and Taub who was now standing in the doorway with her. "Results of the malaria test back so soon?"

Thirteen opened her mouth and then closed it on a hesitant, yet frustrated sigh.

Taub inched forward. "We were wondering if you had the patient sent for any additional tests in the meantime?"

House started at them for a minute as they gaped expectantly at him for confirmation. He huffed a little chuckle. "You lost the patient."

"Well… we… um," she stammered, her neck flushing pink with embarrassment.

"Yes," Taub stated matter-of-factly.

House flung a glance at Wilson and picked up his cane. "Taub, you go check lost and found." He rose from the chair and limped around the large wooden desk. "Thirteen, you come with me…"

Wilson shook his head, his hands still on his hips. Avoiding his friend's reproof in his eyes, he escorted her out of the office and down the hall to his own.

He was curious about her insistence that Punk Rocker Dude's symptoms had nothing to do with the drugs. Maybe it was just to be the Anti-Cut-throat Bitch or maybe it was to get on his good side, though he didn't really think that was the case. If it were, she wouldn't have engaged in that verbal catfight with Amber the other day. No, there was something more. There always was with her.

"Why do you love drug addicts?" he asked sharply as he pushed the glass door open.

"I won't pigeonhole the patients, so that means I'm..."

"I'm perfectly capable of drawing my own conclusions," he cut her off and turned to look at her pointedly. "Are you capable of answering a question?"

She rolled her pretty gray-blue eyes at him and he thought back to the last time they stood like this when those eyes were stormy and full of hate directed at him. He pushed that regretful memory down and raised his eyebrows at her prompting her to answer his question.

"I think there's more to him than the drugs" she defended her position.

Casually, he leaned on his cane and stared at her. "Admirable. Why?"

She laughed a little under her breath. "I need a reason for doing something admirable?"

"There's always a reason," he countered. "He's a patient, you don't know him. Why do you like him?" He pressed curious to see how far he could go before she pushed back. "The alcoholic parent? Druggie youth? There's no such thing as a saint without a past."

"Or a sinner without a future," she fired back with a smirk. _Wait_… _Were they still talking about the patient now? Because with the little smile she was giving him, he wasn't sure._

He shifted a little, noticing that he was standing very close to her once more. He could smell the faint cinnamon warmth of her perfume again. It was nice; he hadn't realized that he'd missed it.

"What makes you so sure that drugs are a mask for something else?" he questioned.

"Drugs are _always_ a mask for something else," she declared confidently keeping her eyes trained on his, lifting her chin a little in a challenge.

He stared down at her. They were definitely not talking about the patient anymore…

"That's the dumbest thing I've heard in my life," he stated dumbly, only afterwards realizing that he sounded like an eight year old with that lame retort. He might as well have just pulled her saucy little ponytail. _Dumbass…_

She arched a finely sculpted eyebrow at him skeptically and gave him an unconvinced little smirk. He wriggled a little under her gaze however as he fought to maintain his ground. Smiling at him, she crossed her arms before leaving the office to go in search of Taub and their Druggie patient.

She had made him dizzy in 2.5 seconds flat.

Chuckling as he shook his head, he was continually surprised by her. Limping into the DDX room, he went over to the white board and picked up his favorite marker. He paused for a second, his marker hovering over the smooth surface of the board and then he changed her points to 102. She was right about the drugs. Drugs were not the root cause of what his guy had. Her instincts were good, though maybe a little Pollyanna. He smiled then to himself for some reason pleased with the outcome of that ridiculous conversation. As with all conversations with her, he got no real answers out of it, only double talk. But, he supposed he got a little bit of her personal take on him. Maybe she was right about that too…

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_A/N: Hey everyone…. Hope you are still enjoying the journey. I have a request. After the next few chapters, I'm going to be going off cannon to spin the growing romance between theses two and I'm going to need a beta to keep me on my toes. If you've got strong grammar skills and dig the relationship between House and Thirteen, and keeping it in character then you might be a big help to me. If you're interested, PM me. I'd love to talk more with you._


	11. Chapter 11

The Gauntlet

Chapter 11

"_You really want this job?" Taub had asked her._

"_You think you can talk me into leaving?" she replied evasively deflecting it back onto him._

"_You're a person who likes her privacy working for a man who needs to know everything. You're a person who cares about her patients working for a man that cares about games."_

For the past two days, Remy had been mulling over in her mind what Taub had said to her. He was right about her. She valued her privacy more than anything else because she didn't want people to know about her past. She didn't want people's false pity or fake platitudes about a situation that they had no idea about. No one could possibly understand what it was like to grow up with a mother who was dying of Huntington's Chorea. No one could possibly know what it felt like to live with the likelihood that they were going to die the same horrible death.

All her life she tried to move beyond that notion that she was a ticking time bomb just waiting for the first tremor. She had watched her mother devolve from a beautiful vibrant woman into a angry, retched, broken shell of the person she used to be. She couldn't control her hands, legs, mind or her bowels. It was twice as debilitating and demeaning a death as any and she wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy. No one deserved to die without even a shred dignity.

Of course Remy understood that now, as a doctor and a grown up. For the longest time when she was young, she was angry that she had such a horrible childhood. She hated her mom because she couldn't be a real mother to her. She couldn't be there for the little things like, shopping for clothes, school functions, birthday parties and play dates. When she was older, all the woman did was yell and say terrible things to her and her friends because of her disease. The disease took away everything that she was supposed to be as a mom. She wasn't sweet, she wasn't kind and she had no ability to love her and sometimes, every once in a while, Remy could still feel the pain of that.

Her father was even more of a disappointment because he had just had given up living. He was an empty skeleton of a man that couldn't give anymore of himself to her because he'd thrown it all away on her mother. It had estranged them in such a way that Remy hadn't spoken to him in ten years. She knew now that it wasn't his fault, but there was no way to reconcile the damage that had already been done.

Remy had come to terms with being alone a long time ago. It was such a part of her life that it didn't hurt anymore. But with every twinge, every missed step, every accidental fumble she wondered… _is it time_? The older she got, the more fearful she became. And consequently, the older she got the more risks she took with her life. Not knowing whether she had Huntington's empowered her to take challenges that she would never have done if she were 'normal'. She'd done stupid things; slept around, done drugs, driven too fast, walked life on the edge. And then one day, an email came from a former mentor. There was a fellowship opening at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital with Dr. Gregory House.

It was an amazing opportunity. Everyone she'd asked said that after coming off of this fellowship she'd be able to work anywhere she wanted. Despite what an ass House was, he was a world-renowned diagnostician. Doctors all over the country knew of him and his work. He was a legend and she could learn so much from him.

"_You're a person who cares about her patients working for a man that cares about games_." Taub had said; but Taub was wrong about House.

At first she figured this would be an interesting experience in the sense that she could challenge herself and learn so much more than she would have just doing rounds in an ER in a major city. Remy soon found out, however, working for House was one of the biggest challenges of her life. He was demanding, critical, unconventional, arrogant, and impatient. He had probably forgotten more medical knowledge already in his twenty years of experience than she would accumulate in a lifetime. He was utterly brilliant and it amazed her how much random information he had stored in that vault of a brain he had. He knew everything and demanded that his employees did as well. She had gone home and studied more in the last eight weeks than she had in the entire last year of her residency. Despite all of House's personality quirks and difficult demands, he had to be the single best doctor she'd even met in her life. No, Taub was wrong about him. And she was glad she had taken the chance.

She didn't want it to end. But here they were, back in the lecture hall for one last tribal council. One last time would they all sit there like this waiting to have their fate decided based on their worthiness of working with the best diagnostician in the world.

The four of them waited anxiously in their seats down in the bottom row. Amber, Taub, Remy and Kutner respectively, all of them were somber and quiet because no one had an inkling as to who was going. He had wiped away the points when the patient went into respiratory distress and even paraded them in front of Cuddy to make her see that he needed to keep all four of them. But he couldn't. He may have called the shots when it came to the medicine but when it came to the bureaucracy, the Dean of Medicine had the last say and the word was he could only keep two.

Finally, the door opened and House entered, carrying a small 45" record. He looked solemn like the decision had taken a long time in coming and once again Remy didn't envy his position. He limped slowly over to the record player and opened the lid. Removing the record's cover, he blew the dust off it, almost reverently and carefully, he put it on the turntable. He placed the arm gently on top of it and a soft guitar solo began to trickle out of the tiny old speaker.

It was nice. Almost calming.

He leaned heavily on the desk and just listened for a second. "A little mood music to build the suspense."

Kutner leaned over placing his elbows on his knees. "Sounds more folky."

House rolled his eyes and glared at Kutner. "You seriously have no idea when to shut up, do you?"

Kutner snapped his trap shut and leaned back like House had rapt him on the snout with his cane. Remy gave him a little smile in sympathy.

"Amber, please stand," House directed from his position by the desk.

Nervously, Amber rose to standing. "You didn't call me 'bitch'. Is that bad?"

House turned to face her. His arms hung dolefully by his side. "You play the game better than anybody else here."

Amber nodded at him as if it were a compliment.

His eyes flicked up to her briefly. "But for the wrong reasons," he continued.

"Reasons don't matter," she recited. "Results are the only thing..."

"You were wrong." He heaved in a sigh and began to move towards her. "Twenty years ago," he pointed to the record player, "this was recorded by Jim Moskowitz, who later became known as Jimmy Quidd. Loves kids, apparently has a heart, perhaps even a soul." Stopping in front of her he looked her in the eye. "If you're going to work for me, you have to be willing to be wrong… willing to lose." His eyes cast down to the floor, avoiding the weighty emotion of the moment. "… Because you just did." Somberly, he looked back up at her and set his jaw askew. "You're fired."

In a surprising display of vulnerability, Amber nodded tearfully accepting his decision at face value without question. Remy wanted to be happy, because her rival had finally been put in her place, but she couldn't. She couldn't take pleasure in another person's failure. It was wrong. She looked away as Amber heavily sat back down and silently cried.

The room was so quiet they could hear him breath in a trembling breath. "Thirteen, please stand."

Confused, Remy rose slowly from her chair. He swallowed hard casting his eyes to the ground. He couldn't look at her; he could barely stand in front of her. His eyes blinked rapidly and his shoulders were slumped with substantial apprehension.

"You're fired."

Remy gasped, stunned.

"Y… you just said I was right about..."

"He was a drug addict," he gruffly cut her off. His eyes met hers finally and she could see the significance in them. He admired her liberal view of the world, maybe even her view of him, but he couldn't have her ignoring the obvious either. "Four applicants, two spots." He breathed in a shuddering sigh and brought his crestfallen eyes to hers. "If I had three, I'd keep you."

Remy stood there, a rueful smirk coming to her lips. His eyes held her gaze for a long moment and she could read the depth of regret and all things unspoken between them. He felt bad. He didn't want to let her go. And that broke her heart.

Heaving in another disconcerted sigh, he announced. "Game over!"

And without another look at them, he left the room; his burden shed, but by no means forgotten.

Remy sat back down and brought her hand to her mouth in disbelief. It was over. She had lost too.

She looked at Taub and Kutner who both gave her sad smiles. It was tough to be the winner when you had to face the losers. She was happy for them, though. They deserved it. They all did, but in the end he could only have two.

They rose and gave her hugs, promising to keep in touch, though Remy knew that was never going to happen, but it was sweet they said so. They made their goodbyes and she climbed the stairs one by one to go retrieve her things from the locker room.

She would miss this place. She would miss him.

It had been a fun ride.


	12. Chapter 12

The Gauntlet

Chapter 12

House's fingers ran over the keyboard of the piano playing _You Won't Let Me Go_ by Ray Charles. It was bluesy and melancholy and it fit. However, the G was horribly out of tune in the 5th octave and he cringed every time he hit it. It served him right for playing on this dingy old keyboard in the lecture hall instead of on his finely tuned grand piano at home. He could have had a glass of bourbon sitting on the top warming in the air as he played. Instead, he was here. It was late and he was tired, but he was in no mood to sit at home alone nursing a drink and his self-pity. At least here, he could pretend that he was checking in on the patient and that was somehow marginally less pathetic.

Punk Rocker Dude had the measles. Kutner figured it out or at least led him to have an epiphany about the patient having measles. Taub was just smart and he manipulated Chase to do a surgery in such a ballsy way that he couldn't help but respect his shamelessness. Cut-throat Bitch, Amber, she was wrong every step of the way because she had let her emotions and her desire to win get in the way. _And Thirteen_… she was right every step of the way yet she was a casualty of Cuddy's ever hateful bottom line.

The music echoed in the empty hall circulating around him in a hollow of harmonic dissidence. When he played things escaped his soul, burdens and emotions he didn't want to face came to the surface and floated away on the transience of notes heard and gone.

It killed him to stand in front of her and tell her she was fired. She was stunned to say the least. He'd enabled her, had proverbially held her hand through out the whole case, because she was right all along. She was _right_ to not assume that the patient's symptoms were drug related. She was _right_ to search for alternative diagnoses with similar symptoms. That's what he wanted; people who thought outside of the box and challenged him. He needed people like that on his team. He wanted her on his team. But he couldn't have her. And that feeling sucked.

Of course, Wilson told him he was having such a hard time with this because he had some sort of feelings for her. He liked her, as much as he was capable of liking anyone. She wasn't terrible to be around; she had a tolerable personality and she was sure easy on the eyes. He might even go so far as to say he was attracted to her; he figured even if he was as blind as Ray Charles that would probably still be the case. She was funny, sarcastic, incredibly beautiful and she smelled _so damn good._

The fact that she was possibly dying made him feel like utter shit. He fired a dying girl, twice in two days. The first time was test but the second time; that was real. _What the hell kind of asshole was he? _

He finished the song and laid his hands in his lap staring at the empty keys. The game was over. He'd finally found his new team. _Great_. Wilson was happy he was moving on like it was some sort of emotional catharsis from losing his old team. It fucking sucked. When it came down to the last five he was at a loss. He liked them all, even the religious nut, Cole. They all had qualities that benefited him, suited him and balanced him. None of them were as much like him as Thirteen, well… except for Kutner but he was just a dumb puppy version of him. He'd learn in time.

But Thirteen. She was aggressive, took risks, saw the world in a way that others didn't see. She had his sense of humor, could stand up to him and didn't cower under his scrutiny or rudeness. She had scars, deep emotional scars and they made her tough. Like him, she kept people out because it was none of their business how she felt, thought or needed. He admired her independence and he respected her mind. It was a shame he had to let her go.

"What the hell did you do?"

House spun around slowly on the piano bench and watched Cuddy coming down the steps of the hall. He shrugged innocently at her. "You told me to hire Kutner and Taub."

"Because I knew you wouldn't," she griped exasperatedly.

_Ok, now he was confused_. "Oops?"

"I can't let you hire two men," she said coming to stand in front of him.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Now that's sexist."

She sighed and clasped her fingers together against the front of her skirt. "You've already got Foreman."

"He's a dude?" he quipped.

She smiled at him conceding to his solemn mood. "Hire a woman too," she ordered gently.

Well, if she was being generous, he might as well go for the whole cookie jar. "Hire two women," he countered.

Shaking her head, she set her chin confidently. "You can have the one that gives a crap about people."

House inhaled a sigh and looked at her seriously. "They both do."

Rolling her eyes, she smirked at him. "Right," she replied dubiously. "Hire Thirteen."

Raising his eyebrows, he considered this stroke of good fortune and then decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He nodded obediently.

Pleased that he didn't fight or protest or manipulate her, Cuddy smiled warmly and started to walk off.

He watched her sashay away from him and an evil smile formed on his lips despite himself. Suddenly Cuddy stopped midway to the door, spinning around to glare at him in amazed understanding.

"This was your plan all along," she accused, bewildered.

"Maybe," he evaded, he couldn't take credit for her coming to him out of some sense of keeping the feminist balance in the universe but he would never let her think that this was her idea. She had given him exactly what he wanted all along without even a peep from him. _Who was he to complain?_

A smile stole over her features. "Well at least the games are done."

He screwed his mouth into a grin. "How long have you known me?"


	13. Chapter 13

The Gauntlet

Chapter 13

Remy laid sprawled out on her sofa and flipped through the channels on the TV wondering when the hell the pizza guy was going to get there. She was seriously jonesing for some black olive and mushroom pizza. She's ordered it forty-five minutes ago and she was hungry, _dammit_.

Absently she kicked at the pile in the carpet with her toe as her leg dangled off the edge of the couch. She twirled a piece of hair from her bangs around and around her finger wondering if maybe there was a funny movie on. Maybe that would cheer her up. She was so relaxed she might slip into a coma any minute, but her mood was foul and she needed a good giggle to get her out of the funk of being fired. And boy was it a funk.

She'd cleaned out her locker, came home and immediately stripped naked and got into the shower. She had to wash the smell of the hospital off of her. It reminded her of what she's lost, how she'd failed. It reminded her of _him_.

Damn him for firing her. Damn him for making her confess her deepest darkest fear and then being kind and never mentioning it again to her. Damn him for standing in front of her with those sad blue eyes and telling her that he'd keep her if he could. Damn him, damn him, damn him! Mother fucker!

She was so incensed that she's actually gone around the bend to just numb. It didn't help that she didn't give a shit about anything right now except for black olive and mushroom pizza. The whole world could disintegrate before her eyes and she wouldn't care as long as she had a slice of pizza in her hand.

There was a curt wrap at her door.

"Finally," she exclaimed jumping up off the sofa. She hurried over to the door and accidentally tripped on one of her shoes she'd left in the middle of the floor in her striptease trek to the shower. She righted herself and shrugged, kicking it out of the way as she leaned over into her messenger bag to fish out her wallet. Absently, she realized she was wearing a thin tank top without a bra and a pair of pink threadbare kitty-cat pajama bottoms. She looked down at her chest and rolled her eyes noticing that her shirt was a little see-through and her nipples were excited about the prospect of pizza too. _Whatever, the pizza delivery boy would get a bonus tip._

Remy blew her bangs out of her forehead and opened the door.

It was not the pizza boy.

It was House.

Pissed off and disappointed, she slammed the door in his face.

_Fuck_. What the hell was he doing there? And how did he know where she lived? She shook her head on a rueful sigh. He was a fucking stalker; of course he knew where she lived.

There was another wrap at the door.

"If you don't have pizza with you, then go away!" she hollered disgruntled that he had the balls to show up at her door and without pizza, no less.

The tapping continued. _Incessantly_.

Yanking the door open, she stared at him with her hand holding her wallet propped irritatedly on her hip. "What the fuck do you want? You fired me, you don't get to bother me anymore."

He sighed and nodded almost shyly at her. "I need to talk to you." Those eyes bore into her, their unspoken apology worming its way into her heart, like a parasite.

_Remy, don't you dare feel bad for him…_ her little voice screamed at her. He didn't deserve her forgiveness. She growled inwardly at her weakness. "Fine."

She stepped away from the door leaving it wide open for him to invite himself in. He hesitated for a second and then crossed the threshold into her apartment. Slamming the door shut behind him, she watched him limp into the living room.

"Watch…" he tripped on her other shoe and like a one legged tightrope walker, some how managed to keep himself from taking a header into the coffee table. "… out for the shoe," she added after the fact trying not to laugh at him.

He narrowed his eyes at her as he righted himself. "What the Hell?"

"Sorry," she grimaced sheepishly. She was a closet slob. No one around the office would have guessed she was so messy.

"Nice outfit, _Miley_…" he nodded at her tank top raising his eyebrows suggestively. By the way he was looking at her, she could tell he was enjoying the 'delivery boy bonus' immensely.

The very knowledge of that made her nipples stand even more at attention, much to her chagrin. _Godamn him_. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at him lifting her chin impertinently. "I'm relaxing."

His eyes narrowed further and he took a step towards her curiously as he did a cursory search of her face. Stopping in front of her, he surprised her and grabbed her face with his hand to turn it so he could look closely.

"Are you high?" he demanded peering into her eyes.

"Maybe," she said lamely unnerved by his closeness. She rolled her eyes and slapped at his hand knowing full well her pupils were probably the size of teacup saucers.

Leaning in close to her ear, he sniffed at her hair and pulled back, his eyes wide. "That's pot," he declared.

She sighed and let an amused smile steal over her lips, feeling the urge to laugh bubble up inside her as he scrutinized her with that indignant frown. "Yeah, I figured since I love drug addicts so much and that I no longer have anywhere to be tomorrow… why not drown my disappointment in a little pot," she tossed at him unable to resist the dig.

His hand still on her face, he stared at her for a long moment. She almost thought he was going to reprimand her for her irresponsibility. She couldn't read the look in his eyes, but then again her judgment was a little impaired at the moment. Then all of a sudden, he dropped his hand and smirked at her. "You got any left?"

Now it was her turn to raise the surprised eyebrow. _Wasn't expecting that…_ Giving him a wry grin, Remy closed her mouth and swallowed down a retort. Instead, she shrugged. "Sure, help yourself. The bowl's on the coffee table." He stepped back from her and paused, a little indecisive about what to do. She could tell he was contemplating the pros and cons of smoking with her. He wasn't her boss anymore, so what did it matter? Now they were just two adults, of consenting age. One happened to be braless and sans her skivvies in her jammie pants, but the other one didn't have to know that.

Eyeing him for a second, Remy was acutely aware of the multifaceted irony of this situation. He had fired her not two hours ago because she chose to ignore the fact that their patient was a drug addict. Now she was high and here he was standing in her living room mulling over whether to smoke pot with her or not. It was an odd turn of events to say the least. Hypocritical but humorous, nonetheless. Then again, House was a study in contradictions and a drug addict himself. One doesn't just become a twenty a day Vicodin addict like he was without a little substance abuse of the lesser evil variety. Of course his never-ending pain was a huge contributing factor in his addiction but Remy figured he'd probably smoked quite a bit in his day.

There was a knock at the door. Pizza was there.

"Oh relax," she griped edging past him to get the door. "I promise not to jump your bones."

He arched an eyebrow at her and then unzipped his jacket, abruptly making the decision to stay. "No, but I might if you keep poking me in the eye with those things…" he added point to her chest.

She felt herself blush and she covered her each of her breasts with their respective hands. "Shut up! I'm at home in my pajamas, no one was supposed to be here."

"What about the pizza guy?" he inquired pulling her back away from the door by the arm. "Go sit down," he ordered, chivalrously taking on the job himself.

"He's sixteen," she stated on a laugh. "Maybe he'll come faster next time."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "The poor kid'll bust a testicle if he cums that fast."

She opened and closed her mouth a few times and stared at him. "That's not what I meant…"

He chuckled as he opened the door and took his wallet out to pay the kid. The delivery guy leaned around him to see if she was there and with an amused grin, Remy watched House growl at the pimply faced teen. He pushed a twenty into the kid's hand and grabbed the pizza, slamming the door in his face.

Remy went into the kitchen to grab two cans of soda and some paper towels for napkins while he took the box of pizza to the sofa and sat down. Coming back over to the couch, she passed in front of him stepping over his legs forcing him to lean back just as he was about to light the cherry on the pipe to take a hit. He eyed her unnerved by her sudden lack of boundaries as her butt passed in front of his face and then cocked his head as he watched her sit. Plopping down next to him and tucking her feet under her, she proffered, "Diet Coke or Diet Dr. Pepper?"

Lighting the bowl, he sucked in a long drag and held it for a few moments. Releasing it slowly from his nose, he said, "Seriously? Diet?" _Apparently, smoking pot was like riding a bike; you never forget how to do it._

"Beggars can't be choosers," Remy chuckled placing the soda cans on the table. She took the bowl from him, lighting the end and smoked her third hit of the night, coughing a bit as the smoke burned her eyes.

"Which one tastes less like ass?" he asked her pointing at the two offensive cans.

Passing the pipe back to him, she let out the smoke between her lips. "Have a couple more hits and you won't give a shit."

"True," he shrugged and then smoked another puff.

Feeling the effects of the marijuana, Remy sat back and let her eyes get heavy. She lazily watched him take in two more long drags and then place the bowl onto the coffee table before leaning back heavily against the cushions. He ran his hands along the denim on his thighs and closed his eyes letting his head loll to the side. They watched TV for a little bit in silence. Some movie with Jack Nicolson and Morgan Freeman was on.

"Wow, I haven't done this in years," he said in amazement.

"What, smoke pot or sit on a couch and watch TV with an actual woman?" she asked with a laugh.

"Both," he said and let out a little giggle.

Remy chuckled. "You giggled."

"No I didn't," he protested and did it again.

"You did," she laughed, "You giggle like a girl."

"I don't giggle," he protested lamely. "It's a manly chuckle." He made a face to demonstrate his point but he looked ridiculous and she laughed at him.

House giggled again. It flowed out of him like bubbles and it made her wrinkle her nose in glee. _It sounded so cute_. She placed her hand on his leg and sniggered. Covered her hand with his, he continued to laugh, his chest jiggling in merriment. Soon she was laughing hard along side him spurred on by his giddiness. Accidentally, she snorted as she tried to breath and they bust out into howls of screaming laughter. Remy collapsed onto his shoulder and slipped onto his chest as tears poured out of her eyes at the hilarity of absolutely nothing. He just kept giggling those bubbly little sounds, bouncing her head off his torso, the motion fueling their peels of insanity. She couldn't breath, her cheeks burned and her stomach hurt. They were both hysterical, writhing in pure unadulterated, sidesplitting mirth.

Ironically, Remy hadn't had this much fun in ages.


	14. Chapter 14

The Gauntlet

Chapter 14

House opened his eyes to a beam of sunlight shining in his face. Instantly, he closed his eyes tightly and slanted his head to the side to get away from the brightness. It didn't matter what time it was; it was way too early to be awake.

Despite the laser beam of light in his retinas and a severe case of after-pot cotton mouth, he felt supremely relaxed and oh so very warm. He didn't care how but needed to make this incredible feeling last a little while longer. His leg hadn't felt this good upon waking in what seemed like forever. Closing his eyes tighter, he guessed that he had to be dreaming and if he wasn't, he figured maybe he should take up smoking pot before bed more often because, damn, was it worth it.

Needing to shift position, he attempted to roll over onto his side but there was a weight on his chest. Slowly, he opened his eyes again and inwardly groaned at the sight before him. Thirteen was draped over him like a warm, sexy, long legged blanket in kitty-cat pajamas. _Un-freaking-believable._ They were entwined in each other's limbs on her sofa like a two-headed pretzel. Apparently they had fallen asleep while they watched _The Bucket List_. He vaguely remembered eating some pizza, smoking another couple of hits and then…

Oh God!... _snuggling_ on the couch while watching a movie! _What the fuck?!_

He rolled his eyes and bit back a growl. Drugs were bad; very, very bad.

He had to get out of there. Trying to catch his bearings, he inhaled a deep contemplative breath, inadvertently taking in the incredible scent of her hair as he did so completely screwing himself in the process. She smelled like cinnamon spice and everything nice. She was sweet and warm and soft in all the right places making him achingly hard in all the wrong places. Good lord, he was so fucked. Every inch of him needed to bolt from her apartment as fast as his one and half legs could take him, but a secret, traitorous part of him really, really enjoyed the feeling of her body snuggled up along side his with her head nestled on his chest. She fit inside of him like she belonged there.

Closing his eyes, he laid still, unsure of what to do. It had been a long time since he'd woken up in a woman's arms. Judging from the way his heart was pounding in his chest, it had been much, much too long. He had to get control of himself. This was not good, no matter how fucking good it felt. He had come over there to give her her job back and what'd he do, smoke pot with her instead and fall sleep on the couch together like they were lovers. _Fucking stupid_. He didn't even get to tell her about the job, moron that he was. He was so distracted by her perky little nipples in that ridiculous little shirt that he couldn't think straight. He was absolutely right; beautiful women made him stupid.

House finally decided that he'd wait one more minute before trying to extricate himself from her. Of course, it was under the guise of not wanting to wake her up so he could make a fast escape not because he wanted to stay next to her warm supple body. He didn't know how he was exactly going to pull off that feat, however, because his right leg was the one on the outside and would have to take the brunt of the weight as he slipped out from underneath her. Trying to contemplate exactly how he would do this, he simultaneously figured that he would call her later or, better yet, text her that he was giving her her job back. Then she could just come in Monday morning and be none the wiser. Sounded like a plan to him.

But as usual the universe had other plans for him. She began to stir, making little incredibly sexy moaning sounds, purring in the back of her throat. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he whimpered silently to himself. _My god, was she trying to kill him?_ _Her hand… was inside his shirt_. Not his button down, no… he'd lost that sometime throughout the night. It was probably somewhere with his socks, which he also realized he didn't have on. No. Her hand was snaked underneath his t-shirt gently tickling the skin on his stomach. She purred again and stretched, raking her fingernails up into the hair on his chest. He bit his tongue between his teeth but it did nothing to hold back the groan he let out as she ran her leg along his inner thigh.

Suddenly she froze, becoming acutely aware that she was not where she should have been. She lifted her head up and went to push her hair out of her face but her hand was stuck inside his shirt. She jerked and started to panic, jostling his bad leg with her thigh as she tried to sit up.

"Easy, easy," he croaked, tightening his hold on her to keep her still.

"House! What the hell," she cried, trying desperately to find her hand. _Couldn't she tell her hand was touching his skin? He certainly could feel every square millimeter of it._

Her knee bumped his thigh again and he grabbed her tightly. "Stop moving!"

She halted her panic attack and slowly became aware of her surroundings, realizing that her knee was wedged precariously between his legs and that her hand was not lost but rather up his shirt. Frustrated, she pulled her hand out from the hem of his shirt and jammed it into her hair to sweep it out of her eyes. She stared at him for a second, her eyes wild with shock or embarrassment, maybe both; he wasn't even sure. All he knew was that they way she was leaning, he could see straight down her shirt. He had a clear view of her breasts, which would have been fantastic if her knee wasn't pressed right up against his family jewels. One inch more and twitch and he'd be singing soprano. Groaning, he bit back an oath and let out a breath.

"Oh my God, House, you're leg," she exclaimed, sending herself into another frantic panic. "Are you ok? Did I hurt you?"

He put his hand on her face cupping the side of her jaw to get her to focus. "Thirteen, I'm fine. Stop moving or _you_ _will hurt me_."

She looked at him calming down, her body melting into his again. "I'm sorry," she said and then looked around. "How did we…"

He shook his head back and forth on the pillow and dropped his hand from her face to lie on his chest. The silky feel of her skin against his fingers was just too much. "I don't know. We must have fallen asleep."

"We were watching that movie," she recalled and then smirked, crinkling her nose at him. "Were we cuddling?" _Fuck she did remember that…_

"No," he lied.

"Well we are now," she stated rather obviously. Her grin spread to a full out smile as she watched his face for a reaction. He must have looked like a deer caught in headlights, because she started to laugh. "Don't worry tough guy, you're secret's safe with me."

Slowly, she carefully peeled herself off of him getting up from the couch like a contortionist. Her leg lifted and stretched over his lap to touch the floor as she pushed herself up off of his chest somehow barely putting down any weight and came to stand gracefully over him. His eyes followed her as she looked down at him and held her hand out to help him into sitting.

"Come on, let's go and get something to eat," she said readily. "I'm starving."

He eyed her for a second, perplexed by her rapid turnaround from freakishly panic-stricken to 'let's have breakfast after a slumber party' cheeriness. Taking her proffered hand, he let her drag him into sitting.

"I'm gonna go get changed," she announced and then disappeared behind two double French doors that lead to her bedroom.

_Don't even think or imagine what that room looks like_… his inner Wilson screamed at him.

Touching his feet to the floor, he hung his head and ran his hands up and over his face to rub frantically at the back of his head. What was he doing here? And why did he want to have breakfast with her? They didn't have sex; they didn't even kiss. All they did was touch a few body parts together and now he wanted to socialize over eggs and coffee? Briefly his mind wondered that if she'd let him bend her over the hood of his car for coffee and M&M's what would she let him do for eggs, bacon and toast?

Pushing down his continually increasing erection, he stood to go in search of his shirt and socks and sneakers for that matter. _Calm down asshole, it's just breakfast_. Just two adults and some food and coffee. How bad could it be? He took a few deep breaths, willing his body to regulate itself and spied his shirt on the chair over to the side. He hobbled around the coffee table and stubbed his toe on his shoe. Well, apparently this was where he'd decided it was a good idea to spend the night. No socks though. He saw those, on the other side of the sofa where he must have kicked them off while he was sleeping.

Limping back over to the end of the sofa, he leaned over and grabbed his socks. Standing up he noticed a photograph in a frame on the consol table behind the couch. He picked it up and looked at it. It was a photo of a pretty auburn haired woman holding a little girl in a party dress. This must have been her and her mother. She was very young, maybe four or five. It had to have been taken before her mother had gotten sick. There was an uncanny resemblance between them. He could have almost mistaken the woman in the picture for her. Sighing, he placed the photo back down on the table and sat to put on his socks and shoes. He kicked himself again for not taking a look at the results of her genetic test. In light of recent events, he wished he knew the answer.

Thirteen came back into the living room then, wearing a ridiculously tight pair of faded jeans and a deep purple turtleneck sweater. Thank God, her breasts were finally locked up tight because he didn't think he'd be able to make it through juice if he could see even one more spec of her creamy white skin.

"I have an extra tooth brush in the bathroom if you want to use it," she said to him coming around to slip her feet into her shoes.

He nodded at her and held his leg as he went into the bathroom, which meant he had to pass through her bedroom on the way. On his slow trek through her huge loft, he noticed she had a big girly bed with tons of pink tiny-flower covered pillows and blankets. He never would have pegged her for the frilly, ruffles and lace type. She always seemed like one of the boys when she was at the hospital, tough and tomboyish. _Interesting_.

Making it into her bathroom, thankfully without tripping on anything in his path, he found the toothbrush and toothpaste. Brushing his teeth, curiosity got the better of him and he opened her medicine cabinet. He found an array of mundane things like cinnamon mouthwash, pink razors, eye drops, dental floss, tampons…hmm… birth control pills _and_ condoms. _Good to know…_ _What? No, not good to know…_

Shaking his head, he remembered what he was there for and spit the foaming toothpaste into the sink. He slammed the little door shut and then quickly looked around because it made a loud noise. _Shit_. She had to have heard that. Covering his tracks he used the mouthwash and quick ran some cold water over his face to get this sex fog out of his brain. Being this close to her and all of her things was making him just plain stupid crazy.

He placed his hands on the edge of the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were that telltale red form being stoned. His skin was wrinkly and his hair looked really gray in this bright light. He was an old fuck. What the hell was he doing in this young babe's apartment? Being an idiot, that's what.

He wiped his hands and his mouth on the pink towel by the sink. _More pink? _She was a conundrum to be sure.

He limped out of her bathroom and back into the living room with the intention of telling her that he was going home and not going to have breakfast with her. She already had her coat on and was holding his leather jacket and his cane. _Great_.

Taking both off her hands, he sighed. "Thirteen, I …"

"Shut up, " she cut him off and stared at him sharply. "You're going to have breakfast with me. Period."

"Okay."


	15. Chapter 15

The Gauntlet

Chapter 15

Remy sipped her coffee and watched him as he sat like a caged animal in his side of the booth. He was a mess. She had apparently turned him upside down and inside out and she hadn't really done anything. There was that awkward silence that hung between them like they'd had sex and didn't know what to do about it. They hadn't of course, but she supposed all of the touching and closeness was tantamount to sex when it came to House. She couldn't recall ever having touched him, even by accident, around the office except for the transfusion and biopsy and that was purely clinical; never mind the little teasing as she undid his restraints because she had gloves on so that didn't really count.

No one ever touched him and he never touched anyone in return. He was like this electrified fence that no one went near for fear they'd be electrocuted. Even a two-foot proximity was a tad too close. But man, once she'd touched him, she didn't want to stop. That electricity drew her to him like a magnet. He was hot to the touch, all rigid carved angles, lean and mean and he smelled incredible, like pure man sex. He could have flipped her over, stripped her naked and fucked her until she'd forgotten her name and she wouldn't have objected in the least. She would have been putty in his hands. But he didn't. And here they were, sitting across from each other at a diner with a sticky table in between them as if they had. It was weird.

"So I was thinking," she began. "We should date."

"What?" he barked, his eyes boggling in shock.

"You know, see each other, have sex, be friends with benefits?"

"Friends with benefits?" he repeated, stymied.

"I like you. You like me," she raised her eyebrows and smiled at him. "We don't work together anymore."

He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it, screwing his face up into a hesitant grimace. "See that's where you're wrong…"

She drew her eyebrows together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Cuddy said I could keep you," he stated.

"What am I, a puppy?" she retorted, miffed that he was referring to her like a possession.

"No. I just meant…" he stuttered awkwardly, his eyes softening like an self-conscious little boy's. "I meant… I came last night to tell you you're not fired."

"And when exactly did you find this out," she demanded, shocked that it took him this long to tell her this vital piece of information.

Sheepishly, he shrugged and sipped at his coffee. "About an hour after I fired you."

She looked at him incredulously. "So you came to my house to tell me I'm not fired but…" she looked around and dropped her voice, "smoked pot and snuggled on the couch with me instead?"

He leveled a disgruntled stare at her. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Why didn't you just tell me last night?"

"I don't know," he whined and then looked at her suggestively. "I got distracted." Her eyes flicked up to meet his and she knew instantly that he was talking about how she looked last night. She had apparently rendered him speechless looking like an over-grown tween in a pair of pink pajamas. _Interesting_.

"I still would have snuggled on the couch with you," she said just to be a smart-ass.

He grimaced and let out a derisive snort. "I don't snuggle on purpose."

She tossed a dubious look at him. "Uh, yeah, you do."

"No," he spat indignantly. "I don't."

"You were the one who pulled me down on top of you," she reminded him with an arched eyebrow. _Ooo, that sounded a tad dirty…_

"Nuh, uh…" he sipped his coffee. "You laid on me."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You played with my hair."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "You drew circles on my chest."

Cocking her chin firmly, she said. "You held my hand."

He stared at her and breathed. "You liked it so much you came back after you went to pee."

"And you liked it so much _you_ came back after you went to pee," she fired back at him holding his stare. "You enjoyed it. Just admit it."

His eyes held hers firmly, smoldering in intensity. "I'll never admit it."

"You just did." She bit her lip and grinned at him. He almost smiled. _Almost_.

"So this friends with benefits thing," she began and waited for his response. "We could still do that even if I work for you."

He smiled then and huff a laugh in disbelief. "You don't want to have sex with me. I'm twice your age, I suck at relationships and I'm …" he gestured to his leg, "… me."

"See there's where you're wrong," she countered. "I'm older than you think I am, I suck at relationships too and I'm not asking you for one, and the fact that you're you just means I'm a masochist. How is that bad for you?"

He eyed her carefully and sipped his coffee. "Is this one of those things you have on your 'bucket list'? One of those thing you want to do before you die?"

Of course he'd reference the movie they'd watched to make his point. She snorted. "What like cliff diving in Hawaii? Please, it's not like you're fucking Mick Jagger," she said on a laugh.

He shrugged. "Hey. That's no way to butter me up," he said sardonically. "I like to think I'm cool like that."

She laughed and looked at her hands around her coffee cup. "You are pretty rock and roll," she added begrudgingly.

"How old are you?" he asked her seriously.

"I'm thirty," she told him meeting his eyes.

"Oh, that's much better," he commented sarcastically.

"How old are you?" she asked him.

"Eleven years less than twice your age," he answered grumpily.

Quickly she did the math. Nineteen years. He was forty-nine. "So what? That's nothing, it's not like I'm sixteen and you're thirty years older than me. Besides, we both know the equipment still works," she tossed at him with a saucy smirk.

He closed his eyes briefly and a slight blush tinged his cheeks. She bit her lip and decided not to tease him about it because he looked really cute right now. Her stomach did a little flip-flop and she inhaled a breath. _You're treading on dangerous ground, Remy_…

"And then there's the whole 'I'm you're boss' thing," he added.

"Who says I'm coming back," she said evasively.

"What? Why wouldn't you come back?" he demanded. "Don't be stupid."

"I don't know, I'm just saying…" she answered lamely.

"You're coming back," he stated tersely.

"You really want me back?" she fished. She knew he'd never say those exact words but she'd be able to tell it in his eyes.

"Take it or leave it because that's all you're getting from me," he laid it out there becoming irritated that she was trying to manipulate him. It was there however, strong and vibrant. He wanted her back as much as he just plain wanted her. She could see it in the deep azure of his eyes and hear it in the irritation of his voice. There were levels to his annoyance, subtle clues that gave away his depth of concern for any given situation. She could read those clues; it was what made her understand him better than the others. Right now, the sharpness of his irritation told her that he wanted her badly but was unwilling to admit that to her or himself.

"Take it."

He nodded curtly and maybe she heard him breath an imperceptible sigh of relief. For being so adamant about not liking her, maybe, just maybe, he was fighting a losing battle. Because, she'd already lost that one herself. Remy liked him a whole lot more than she'd ever intended to.

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_A/N: Hello my lovelies! Just want to thank everyone who has added my quirky little story to their alerts. I'm so psyched that you are digging this. I myself get little butterflies as I write it. It's exciting! And I'm finding that my House voice is very different in this one compared to my Sessions House which is totally cool because I get to explore him in a different way. Don't get me wrong, he's still House in Sessions, but he has a whole list of other things going on that he has to deal with. In this one, his struggle with his feelings for Thirteen are twisting him into a ball of sexual frustration and confusion. His thoughts are baser, more lewd and goddamn humorous! I love it! So sit back and enjoy the ride. Things are ramping up. Enjoy!_


	16. Chapter 16

The Gauntlet

Chapter 16

Monday morning arrived with a bang. House was at work early, much to his dismay. And it had absolutely nothing to with the fact that _She_ was coming back to work today. He had insomnia. Two nights in a row. He hadn't really been able to sleep since his encounter with Thirteen. Actually, the last time he did sleep well was with her and that was just way too disconcerting to think about.

He kept thinking about what it was like to touch her and how she made him feel so incredibly alive. His mind kept teasing him with the memory of her smooth warm skin, the smell of her hair, the intoxicating scent of her perfume. He could still feel her arms and her legs draped over his body and could still clearly recall the sight of her perky little breasts peeking through the deep scoop of her tank top, waving at him inviting him to come in. It was crazy because he hadn't realized that he'd been walking around in a funk for the past what… oh, hundred years or so. It was like her mere touch had awakened all of his long dormant senses. Things looked brighter, the air smelled better, and damned if his mind wasn't clearer. It was insanity and he hated it.

_Friends with benefits_… was she out of her freaking mind? First of all, he didn't have friends. He had a friend. Singular. One. Male. And Singular, One Male Friend was not anything, remotely close to any kind of benefit of _that_ nature. No, if he and Thirteen were going to be 'friends with benefits' then he'd have to call her 'friend' and that would throw his whole world view off balance. Secondly, the sex part… Good god! That also weighed pretty heavily on his mind. Like an 800 pound gorilla to be exact. He hadn't had sex with another person in the room since … man, too long to even admit to himself. A year, maybe more, since that earthy crunchy vegan chic… _Sugar_… no, _Sweet-something_… oh right, _Honey_. _Holy crap!_ Had it really been that long? Jesus, no wonder why he was jonesing for her like a prisoner salivating for a conjugal visit.

Maybe it was time to hire a hooker again…

Thirteen entered the conference room at 8:36 and 42 seconds, to be exact, but he wasn't counting. He'd just happened to look at his watch. She looked like she always did, clean, freshly scrubbed, in her causal funky, clothes. But, God damn, she looked even brighter and more beautiful than normal. His heart kind of fluttered against his ribs and his hand started to shake, just a little, and he vaguely thought to himself that maybe he needed to switch to decaf too. Kutner and Taub immediately paused in the middle of whatever it was they were doing and looked at her like she was a vision from another world. Foreman cocked an eyebrow at her and then looked at him for confirmation that she was indeed actually standing there. House wasn't sure however, she looked like a vision to him too, even though he knew better.

"Wh- what are you dong here," Kutner asked, stymied.

She shined her bright eyes on him and took in a breath, settling herself. "I work here."

"But he fired you," Taub said calmly from his chair.

"He hired me back," she said, taking off her coat and messenger bag. House watched in amusement as he listened to the interplay from his position against the kitchenette counter.

"What? How? Why?" Kutner stammered.

"I blew him, " she stated casually, "and he begged me to come back."

House snarfed hot coffee through his nose at her bold, outrageous declaration. He coughed and sputtered, choking on the scalding liquid. _Fuckin' A that burned. _She _was_ trying to kill him_. What the hell?_

"Oh my god! Are you ok?" Kutner asked spinning around in his seat to check to see if he had actually coughed up a lung.

House shook his hand to flick off the coffee that spilled and wiped at his face, wrinkling his nose and blinking his runny eyes. "Yeah, I've got another pair of sinuses at home," he snarked once he could breath again. He caught her devilish smirk and rolled his eyes. _Way to throw them off the scent, there Friend_…

"So she's really back," Taub asked, ignoring the whole exchange as if it never happened.

"Yup," he nodded coming to his senses, realizing that he had to join in the conversation or they'd know something was up with him. "She's here for keepsies."

Foreman eyed him curiously from his chair at the head of the table. He regarded him for a moment trying to ascertain whether House was telling the truth and then a slow expression of understanding registered on his dark face. He rolled his eyes and shook his head knowingly, letting out a disapproving chuckle. House glared at him and rolled his eyes back in revulsion. This was not what he thought it was. It was not Cameron all over again. Foreman tossed him one last disbelieving glance and then brought his attention to Thirteen.

"You should have run while you had the chance," Foreman grunted at her.

Thirteen sat down in the chair next to him. "Why? You're still here," she countered.

Foreman let out a derisive laugh. "No one else will take me because of him."

House scrubbed at his nose inhaling the coffee residue out of his nostrils and came over to the table. "We're like ebony and ivory, we go together in perfect harmony."

Taub chuckled. _Of course, the little Jew was the only one old enough to remember that song_.

Foreman snorted. "Yeah, like shit on the bottom of your shoe."

House made an innocent face. "Hey, your words man, not mine." He sat down in the empty chair next to Kutner, which also happened to be directly across the table from Thirteen. He saw her watching him and a small smile crept onto his lips. Pushing it down, he looked away from her at the same moment that Cuddy walked in. _Oh, could this morning get any better?_

The Dean of Medicine strode into the room on her eight inch stripper heals wearing a very low cut magenta top and a pink skirt that held absolutely no secrets. He quirked an eyebrow at her. Ironically, pink on her made her look like cougar on the prowl, he thought to himself as he took in her appearance. "Uh oh, look out, the tranny prostitute convention's in town," he muttered braving another sip of his coffee.

Cuddy rolled her eyes disgustedly at him and held up a blue folder. "You have a new case," she announced. "And now that you have four doctors at your beck and call, I expect you in clinic duty for ten hours a week."

"Awww, mom," he whined exaggeratedly. "That's soooo not fair!"

"And no, they cannot do it for you," she articulated with a sharply pointed finger in his direction. "I want to see your ass actually in the clinic working with patients, two hours a day, every day." Then suddenly, she turned on Foreman wielding that finger at him. "And you owe me six."

"What? Why me?" he grumbled in outraged protest.

She raised her eyebrows at him in superiority. "Because you're not a fellow any more. You're his equal."

House snorted at her. "Equal my ass. I'm still the boss, no matter how much you let him ride the front of the bus." Foreman gaped at him and shook his head. Taub and Kutner's mouths dropped open and Thirteen just arched an eyebrow at him.

Cuddy stared back at him in incredulity for that extremely racist comment and he chuckled. _God, it was so easy to rattle their cages_. "I'm still your boss and I need him to keep you honest," she reminded him for like the umpteenth time. House could actually count on one hand the amount of time he in fact needed Foreman to keep him in check.

Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms in front of him. So this was how she was going to make him pay for keeping three ducklings, blackmail him with clinic duty. "Excellent," he said gleefully.

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. She searched him looking for some answer to the tons of queries she now had swimming around her head. _Good, he'd confused her_. Not finding the answers she was looking for, she gave up and handed him the file. "Forty-five year old mother, numbness in both arms and hand paralysis."

"Ooo, how very boring," he griped completely disinterested in the case at the get-go.

"Patient inherited the BRCA1 mutation from her mother, she elected to have a prophylactic double mastectomy ten years ago," Cuddy informed him pushing the file in his direction.

He pushed it back. "Not interested."

Thirteen took the file from her and began to scan it for relevant information. "She's been to an ortho, two neuro's, and an immunologist. None of the treatments have had any effect." He raised his eyebrows at her and shrugged noncommittally. "It's getting worse," she continued. "Last neurologist found intermittent numbness in both arms as well as the hand paralysis."

"Any history of drug use?" Taub questioned.

Thirteen looked at the file again. "No. It's written here that she says she's never done drugs." Now that they were officially working, Cuddy quietly slipped out of the office presumably back to her cave to eat the brains of small children for breakfast.

"She _says_ there's no history," House reiterated bringing his attention back to the table. What forty-five year old mother would actually admit to using drugs to an ER doctor? She had to be lying.

"So you think she's automatically a liar," Thirteen countered, flashing her eyes up at him with intensity. _Ooo, fierce! Like he never fired her… or slept next to her with his hand on her ass less than 48 hours ago…_

"What is with you and the druggie patients?" he questioned, ignoring the blinding irony of that statement.

Thirteen glared at him, her mouth open. "Wait, so now you're going with the drug diagnosis?"

"Street drugs are laced with all kinds of things," he singsonged her words back at her that she threw at him last week about their Punk Rocker Druggie patient.

She clamped her mouth shut and swallowed back a retort. "I'm just saying, maybe she's not a liar."

House rolled his eyes at her. "Ok, this is gonna be a tough case," he said sarcastically. "I have almost no knowledge of alien physiology."

She made a face and scoffed. "Everyone lies," she repeated his mantra boredly. "But, there's an exception to every rule."

House stared back at her. "Actually there isn't. That's kinda what makes it a rule."

He looked around the group and realized they had been staring openly at the heated little exchange between him and Thirteen. Slanting his eyes at the file, he sighed and said. "Well, she lied big time. She lied to the world… Reconstructive surgery is designed to convince people that…"

"She didn't get reconstructive surgery," Thirteen fired back, cutting him off.

"She didn't get reconstructive surgery?" Taub asked incredulously.

House made a face. _Ok, now he was intrigued._ What kind of forty-five year old woman has a double mastectomy at the age of thirty-five and doesn't reconstruct her breasts?

"I guess that means we can rule out breast cancer," Kutner piped in.

"Actually, I was going to rule it in," Taub corrected. "Paralysis could be paraneoplastic. Even the best surgeon can't remove every cell of breast tissue."

This seemed to convince Foreman who looked to House for confirmation. House ruminated on this idea for a moment and took a sip of his coffee.

He sighed and looked at Thirteen. "MRI what's left of her chest. Set the machine to scan for _irony_." She flashed him an annoyed little sneer and took Kutner with her for the procedure.

Setting his cup down, he paused for a second and then stood. "I'm going to go redo the patient history."

Grabbing his cane, he hobbled out into the hall pleased with the relatively seamless transition back into the grind. He was still able to debate with her. She didn't back down from any of his comments, of course he wasn't really mean but, whatever. She still held her ground and had her opinions; they were wrong of course but also, whatever. And none of the rest of the idiots were at all aware of how much he wanted to take her to a supply closet and really show her who was boss. Surprised by the lewdness of his thoughts, he ran a hand over his face and pushed the elevator button with the tip of his cane.

He really needed to hire a hooker and fast.

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_A/N: Ok, so I lied about not going canon anymore! I needed a case and this was next on the docket (It's from _It's a Wonderful Lie_), plus ironically it fits with where I'm going. Don't know if I'm going to make it Christmas though. Because it's really not relevant to the case, but could be fun in the interplay between the two of them. We'll see!_

_Oh and to address a concern about the age…I made her 30 even though she did say in House's Head that she was born after 1980, making her at oldest 28. I figured it made it a little less like cradle robbing even though its only 2 yrs. And I believe that House is actually as old as Hugh Laurie because in Three Stories, he 'diagnosed' a 40 yr old man with leg pain i.e. himself, which was 5 years before that episode took place making him 45, which was also 4 yrs before Season 4 making him 49. Also he was a grad student when Cuddy was in pre-med, making him older than her. And BT-dubs I think they keep switching Cuddy's age because they referred to her as fortyish, nearing forty and over forty so apparently she's immortal and doesn't age? That was an inconsistency that irked me this last season when he made some comment about her nearing forty, I think it was in Social Contract. Because God forbid she actually be a respectable, sexy woman over forty! And there's no way Lisa Edelstein is my age! Stay out of the sun girl! So yeah, LOL, how sick it that that I've actually thought that much into this?! Good debate though, Thanks to Vanamo for your pick up!_


	17. Chapter 17

The Gauntlet

Chapter 17

House sat casually in one of the chairs outside Liar Mom's room. He sucked on his lollipop and regarded the woman's daughter as she licked delicately at the lollipop that he had given her. He wasn't buying this whole honesty line of crap this woman was touting. No one was ever that honest to everyone, and certainly not to their children.

"Your mom tell you about all the drugs she does?" he asked her casually as if he was asking her what she'd watched on TV last night.

The girl shrugged. "She smokes pot once in a while, but not in a long time." _Ah pot, that seemed to be a recurring theme lately._

"What about you?" he asked her though not really believing that she was into doing anything other than listening to the Jonas Brothers and texting her friends.

She looked at him suspiciously. "How would that make her sick?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "Are you a doctor?" _Damn kids, they think they're so smart_.

She made a face at him, offended that he'd even asked her if she would do drugs. "I'm eleven…"

"That's not an answer," he argued, "It's an evasion." He took his lollipop out of his mouth and looked at it a second. Maybe pot was a bit much for an eleven year old, but there was always alcohol. Easy access and she could sneak a drink with her friends while Mommy wasn't looking. "What about drinking? You ever sneak a drink?"

"I don't do any of that stuff," she protested shaking her head proudly. "It's bad for you." _Well, shit, if drinking was bad for you, then he must be ready to drop dead any second now…_

House softened his eyes and mustered up a sympathetic look as best he could. "I understand why you don't want your mom to know, but I'm her doctor so…"

She shook her head vehemently. "I would tell my mom. And I would tell you."

_See, now that's where he had the problem_. "Why?"

She looked at him seriously in the eye like she was way more mature than just any eleven year old. "Because she would never lie to me."

House considered this for a moment. He decided to drop the hammer and really test his theory. "What's her favorite way to have sex?"

"I don't get what sex has to do with breast cancer." The little girl frowned at him like he was a dirty old pervert, which frankly he was, sitting here talking to her about this, but he needed answers so… whatever it took.

He rolled his eyes at her again. "Are you a doctor? Did you go to med school since the last time I asked?"

"You just think we gotta be lying because…" she said becoming irritated with him, but he cut her off.

"White lies?"

She looked at him curiously. "What are those?"

"Those are lies we tell to make other people feel better," he said. Those were lies he rarely engaged in. He couldn't give less of a crap if people felt better.

"I don't lie," she insisted.

"Rationalizations?" he pressed.

"What are those?" _Again with the curiosity_.

He sighed. "Those are lies we tell to make ourselves feel better." Those he was intimately acquainted with. He must have told himself twenty of those since he walked in the building this morning in anticipation of seeing Thirteen again.

"No, we don't-"

He cut her off again. "Lies of omission?" She looked at him unsure of that meaning as well. He was getting nowhere with this little lie tutorial. She was wasting his time. "Saddle, bronc or doggie? That's sex talk."

The girl stared at him for a moment in contemplation. She looked at her lollipop and then said matter-of-factly, "She used to like being on top, but now she likes to be on her stomach. That way, she doesn't have to see them looking at her scars."

House stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. An eleven year old had just rendered him utterly speechless.

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"It's child abuse," he stated, still thrown that a woman would share such graphic details about her flat-chested sex life with her eleven year old daughter. It was a little revolting.

"Honesty's child abuse?" Wilson queried as he peered up at the MRI scan he was holding up to the light in the cafeteria.

"There's a reason that everybody lies," House said scratching his chin. "It works. It's what allows society to function. It's what separates man from beast."

"Oh. I thought that was our thumbs." Wilson slid him a sidelong glance and then continued to look at the scan.

House cocked an eyebrow at him. "You wanna know every place your mom's thumb has been?"

"Sila's clean, surgical margins looks clear. No lymphadenopathy, no masses, no nothing. It's not cancer." Wilson pulled the scan down from overhead and stared at him, perplexed. "I'm sorry I missed rehearsal. Am I taking the 'truth is good' side?" he questioned. "Don't you usually take that side?"

House sighed and grabbed his pastrami reuben from the counter. "Lies are a tool, they can be used either for good… No wait, I got a better one," he said changing thoughts. "Lies are like children. Hard work, but they're worth it. Because the future depends on them."

Wilson picked up a salad and put it on the tray. "You are so full of love… or shit… or something…" They made their way to the cash register and he gestured for House to pay up.

House walked on through the line without stopping, leaving him to pay. _Fuck that, he never paid_. Wilson rolled his eyes and begrudgingly took out his wallet and doled out a twenty.

"When you care about someone…" Wilson continued, coming out the register, and followed him to the table.

"You lie to them!" House exclaimed cutting him off, taking a seat. "You pretend that their constant ponderous musing are interesting. You tell them they're not losing their boyish good looks or becoming worn out."

"No when you care about someone you lie to them and yourself believing that you have no feelings what so ever for them, because you're afraid to you might actually be a human being," he countered.

"Lies are good," House argued.

Wilson raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah, did you sleep with Thirteen yet?"

House choked on his sandwich. _Dammit, that was twice today_. He coughed the piece of pastrami out of his sinus cavity and cleared his throat glaring at Wilson.

Wilson's eyes widened in surprise. "You did?" he dropped his voice. "Oh my God! You had sex with her?"

House shook his head. "No! It's not…"

"It's not what?" he pushed.

"I didn't have sex with her," he growled.

"But something happened," he accused pointing a knowing finger at him. "Something significant."

House coughed again to clear the last bit or sauerkraut from the back of his throat and stared at him. "It was nothing."

"Oh, well then, if it was nothing," Wilson griped sarcastically, "You wouldn't have snorted your sandwich through your nose. What did you do?"

"Nothing… I, we… watched a movie on the couch," he muttered.

"Naked?"

"Fully clothed," he leveled a glare at him.

"What was the movie?" he asked.

"The Bucket List."

"How appropriate, considering she might be dying," Wilson murmured. House had shared this tidbit of information with him at some point last week when he was feeling guilty about firing her. He should have just kept his mouth shut. "Was there heavy petting?"

"Mild petting," House shrugged. "But I did give her my school ring and now we're going steady."

"Well, _Danny_ maybe you could get _Sandy_ to meet you out back by the bleachers during study hall," he quipped. "She'll be forever _Hopelessly Devoted to You_."

"Fuck off," he said taking another, smaller bite of his sandwich.

"What are you going to do?" Wilson asked and stabbed his fork at his lettuce.

"Nothing." _There was one of those pesky little lies of rationalization again._

"Nothing? You're going to do nothing?" Wilson stared at him incredulously. "She's fucking gorgeous. And you're just going to ignore the fact that the two of you practically set the building on fire whenever in you're in the same room together?"

"I can't have sex with her because then I'd have to ask her to move in with me like next week and I'm having the carpets cleaned so that's just all sorts of mess I don't need to deal with," he evaded.

"You don't have carpets," Wilson deadpanned knowing full well that that was exactly the scenario as it played out with Stacey. "Believe it or not, you can actually date a woman, have sex with her and not get romantically involved."

"Women always get romantically involved," he said "Its in their DNA."

"So you're secretly a woman?" Wilson joked. "Wow Greggina, I think you need a little electrolysis. You're looking a little scruffy around the edges."

"There have been plenty of women I've had sex with and not had a single feeling for at all," House stated proudly. As if that was something he should be proud of.

"Right. I'm sure. How many of them might be dying?" Wilson stabbed him with a look.

"Wait I think _I_ missed rehearsal, I thought you were trying to talk me into having sex with her?"

"I am. But I also think you need to consider the fact that there might be deeper feelings there."

"There's not."

"Right. No feelings at all."

"Nope."

Wilson shrugged. "So then put your saddle on cowboy and ride that stallion."

House narrowed his eyes at him in confusion. "Wouldn't that metaphor have worked better if you'd said 'mare'?"

"Yeah, but you get my point."

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House stepped off the elevator into the hallway and was greeted by Kutner and the fucking gorgeous woman who was just the topic of his lunch conversation.

"We need a new theory," he told them.

Thirteen raised and eyebrow at him "Did you catch her lying?"

He frowned at her. "Not yet."

She placed her hand on her hip and made a face. " 'Wouldn't know' would have been a shorter answer."

"Wouldn't you 'not talking' have made this a shorter conversation?" he griped back at her with a smirk. "Kid says mom's a slut."

"She called her mom a slut?" Kutner asked incredulously.

House rolled his eyes. "No, I called her mom a slut. Jumps anything will a pole and a pulse. Not that I'm judging here," he glanced at Thirteen who gave him an imperceptible smile. "Given her medical history, I'm actually impressed." He started down the hallway to his office.

"Maggie already admitted to having multiple sexual partners," Thirteen said falling into step beside him, Kutner on the other. "Which is why we already tested for, and ruled out, syphilis and any other STDs that could have caused her symptoms."

They arrive just outside the door, and he rested his hand on the handle turning around to look at them. "STDs aren't the only risk in _risky_ sex. Problem in sleeping with strangers is… they're strange." This time he gave her a full-out look. Her silver blue eyes stared back at him with a white-hot heat that made his blood run through his veins like burning lava. _Man, was everything they talked about now going to have such subtext?_

"We'll follow up with any recent partners," Kutner said, innocently unaware of the eye fucking going on between him and his colleague.

"Send Foreman and Taub," he instructed. "They're better liars, more likely to get to the truth." His eyes never left hers, locked on her like a moth to flame. It was almost as if Kutner wasn't even in proximity to them.

"I'll go find Foreman and Taub," the young doctor announced and then jogged off down the hallway leaving him standing there alone with her. Coming to his senses, he broke his connection to her and turned into his office. She followed on his heals.

Needing to put an object of furniture between them, he came around to stand behind his desk and picked up his mail. It was really more of an excuse to do something with his hands other than strip her naked because he never actually looked at his own mail. She stopped in front of his desk and crossed her arms delicately over her chest.

He stared at her for a long moment. She was stunning the way she was looking at him from underneath her long black tipped eyelashes with those sexy feline eyes. Her pink tinged lips curled into smile as she watched him try to formulate something to say to her.

"Have dinner with me tonight," he found coming out of his mouth.

Her eyes widened in surprise and a pleased smile stole over her features. "Ok. Where and when?"

"Take-out. My place. 7:00?" _Something casual, nothing too extreme, no expectations._

"Great," she said and then moved closer to the desk. "Except I don't know where you live."

He narrowed his eyes at her. That was true. She'd never been to his apartment. Taking a piece of paper off his notepad, he scrawled his address and handed it to her. She took the little paper and folded it putting it in the front pocket of her jeans.

"Should I bring anything?" she asked.

"A change of clothes," he ventured.

Her breath caught in her throat and he thought that his heart might actually stop beating for a second as he waited for her to reply. Then, suddenly, she smiled brightly at him, a lovely blush covering her cheeks. "Perfect."

She turned on her heel and went to leave but paused with her hand on the door jam. "I figured I should probably bring some wine, too."

"Yeah, that would help," he said, nodding.

"See you then," she said coyly and then left.

House collapsed into his desk chair, all of his breath rushing out of his lungs as he made impact. He bugged his eyes out as he thought about what he'd just done. He had to have gone completely insane. The sperm backup in his testicles had turned his brain into pulverized jello. Talk about being stupid… The boundary lines were all blurred now. _Blurred? Was he fucking kidding?_ They had been completely obliterated.

The gauntlet had been thrown down on the table.

_Now, let's see if she could put her money where her mouth was._


	18. Chapter 18

The Gauntlet

Chapter 18

Remy's hand shook as she raised it to knock on House's apartment door. She couldn't believe she was actually here, holding a bottle of wine and an overnight bag so she wouldn't have to do the walk of shame tomorrow morning back to her apartment to get ready for work. She was going to have sex with House; premeditated raucous sex, the kind that made you walk bowlegged like you had ridden a horse for the better part of a day. Was she insane? Maybe. All she knew was she was already wet with anticipation. That was for damn sure. Right down to the matching pink lace bra and panties she'd put on after she'd shaved practically everything she'd owned especially for him.

There was a part of her that thought maybe she'd leave the bag of clothes in her car just in case he was kidding about the change of clothes part; that maybe he was joking about the sex. But there was also a part of her that knew he completely serious. There was a look in his eyes when he'd asked her that question that said he was terrified she might turn him down. She had almost wanted to take pity on him and fuck him right there on his desk to let him know she was a sure thing. How such a confident and arrogant guy could be so vulnerable and shy was amazing to her. It was endearing and it made her heart squeeze. _No, no, none of that now… this was just 'friends with benefits'._ That was all. She shook her head and took a deep breath. She'd done this before. She could handle it. Besides, he'd probably be an asshole to her afterward anyway so she might as well get her groove on in the process.

Taking one last confidence boosting inhale, she knocked on the door and waited. And waited. A couple of drawn out seconds more ticked away. He was slower than the average bear, but man, this felt like an eternity. She shifted from foot to foot beginning to lose a little bit of her bravado. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Pushing her lips into a pout, she contemplated turning around and leaving but then she heard the doorknob jiggle and turn. Her heart hammered in her chest and her palms actually began to sweat. What was she, twelve? _Get a hold of yourself, Remy_.

The door pulled open and he was standing there barefoot and disheveled in a dark t-shirt and jeans. He looked amazingly sexy and so incredibly fuckable, but then again, he always looked fuckable.

"Sorry, I was just ordering dinner," he said jerking his thumb back over his shoulder looking like he was surprised she was actually standing there in his foyer.

Remy took a deep breath and smiled. "Excellent. What's on the menu?" _Besides you_…

"Thai. You like Thai right?" he asked thinking about it as an after thought.

"I like Thai. Thai's perfect," she said.

They both looked around nervously and then he suddenly grimaced realizing she was still standing outside. Hobbling backwards a few steps, he opened the door wider. "I'm an idiot. Come in."

Remy chuckled and walked through the door way into his inner sanctum. "It's ok," she said relieving him of any misplaced guilt as he clicked the door shut. It was good to know he was as panicked about this as she was though she was trying her damnedest to remain cool. She supposed he was too, however failing miserably.

Stepping further into the room, she looked around taking in all of her surroundings. The place was very masculine yet cozy. There were huge bookcases filled to the brim like a library and even more books on every surface of every piece of furniture around the room. He had antique gadgets, some modern art and a large piano in the corner that took up almost half of the room. He even had a fire going. She was impressed.

She turned to him and smiled. "It's very you."

"I should hope so, considering I live here," he grumbled sarcastically.

Limping behind her, he gently took the strap of her overnight bag off of her shoulder. Taken aback, she turned around to watch him slide it down the hallway like a bowling ball in an alley. It skidded to a halt at the end by a closed door. _Presumably his bedroom?_ She raised an eyebrow at him and he grinned shyly. "Nothing breakable I hope?"

"Nope," she answered holding up the bottle of wine. "Just this."

"Lets get this puppy open," he said limping heavily into the kitchen without his cane. He never really moved around much without the aid of his cane unless he had to go short distances. Remy supposed that it was because he was at home and more relaxed and therefore didn't need it as much. He knew where everything was and didn't have to go very far to reach anything. It was kind of nice to actually see him be able to use two hands to do something.

Remy listened to him teeter around the kitchen while she took a closer look at the rest of his things. The books were all medical texts as far as she could tell. If he'd read them all, no wonder why he had the most obscure medical knowledge inside his brain. Some of them were even in other languages like Indian, Japanese and Italian. She passed by the fire, breathing in the toasted woody scent as she wandered over to the music area. He had two guitars hanging on the wall next to his piano, an amp on the floor and a banjo on a stand in the corner. She had heard that he was quite the musician but hadn't had the opportunity to hear him play. She wondered what type of stuff he liked to play most, rock and roll, jazz, blues?

Remy heard him shuffle back into the living room and she turned around to look at him with interest. "Do you play a lot?"

He held out a glass of wine forcing her to come back into the 'living area' so she could take it from him. He shrugged at her and turned to sit on the sofa. "I play occasionally. Not as much as I'd like."

Remy took a sip of the deep crimson liquid and let it stream down her throat warming her as she moved around the small coffee table to sit next to him on the sofa. If they were going to become comfortable enough to do this, she was actually going to have to be in close proximity to him. She bent her leg to sit on her foot and rotated to face him as she propped her head on her fist at the back of the sofa. His eyes followed her every move, making her skin tingle as if his hand were tracing her outline. Sighing, she let her eyes just rest on him taking in the uncharacteristic calmness in his face. He sort of half grinned at her as he held his wine glass on his leg. He looked much younger when he smiled. His face softened and he became handsome.

Shifting on the cushion, he turned to face her like she was him. He, too, draped his arm along the back of he couch almost touching her with his fingers. She dropped her hand and laced her fingers in his. Looking at their hands joined together, a slow smile stole across his lips as he ran his thumb down the side of hers to her wrist where he stroked little currents of electricity through her pulse point.

"If we're going to do this," he began quietly, "we're going to need some ground rules."

Remy gave him a curious smirk. "Like what?"

"They're non-negotiable," he stated plainly. Leave it to him to maintain control over the situation.

She nodded. "Ok."

"Number one: Anything that happens here stays between you and me" he declared. "The team can never know."

"They know nothing about me," she assured him. "I don't talk about my personal life."

"Number two: You can never use the 'L' word," he stated.

Remy smiled. "Which 'L' word? Licorice, labia, _like_?" He rolled his eyes at her and she chuckled. "Oh that 'L' word… Don't worry I don't do the 'L' thing. I'd rather have cardiac arrest than have that kind of heart condition."

He nodded agreeing with her. "Number three: We always spend the night until morning. It may be just sex but you're not a whore."

Remy took in a deep breath and licked her lips. This was getting serious; he wasn't kidding with her. He had seriously thought about what all this meant. She nodded, unable to really speak.

"And last thing," he enumerated taking in a difficult breath. "You can never talk about or touch my leg."

Remy's eyes widened and she cocked her head to the side. "At the risk of being a smartass, how then…"

"That's different," he rolled his eyes. "Obviously you'll touch it, I just mean you can't touch like out of curiosity or whatever. Oh and you can't sit on it because that hurts."

"Anything else?" she asked with a grin.

"Do you have any stipulations?" he asked her.

Remy thought for a moment. This was a surreal little negotiation. He'd pretty much covered the major topics she'd thought about as far as they were concerned. He'd even covered the leg, but it would be fun to figure out exactly how that was logistically going to work. Apparently that was a very taboo subject for him. Thinking about that lead her directly to her own taboo. "You can never tell me the results of my genetic test. Ever."

His eyes grew a dark murky shade of blue as he inhaled a big breath. "I didn't look at them."

"You mean you don't know?" she questioned incredulously. "You didn't open it?"

He shook his head squeezing her and with his. "No."

Remy's breath shuddered in her chest. "Oh." She was shocked. She was speechless. She didn't know how she felt. "Wow."

"It's your decision to find out," he stated. "Not mine." His thumb was making soothing circles inside her palm tentatively grounding her in the present.

Remy blinked and took another sip of her wine before leaning over to place her glass on the coffee table. She let go of his hand before rising to her knees. She inched over to him taking his glass, doing the same, before swinging her leg over his lap and settling herself down.

His hands came around to grab her hips as he watched her intently with his crystalline eyes. "I just said no sitting."

She smoothed her hands up his chest to come around the back of his neck. Their eyes locked as she set herself up higher onto the fly of his jeans. His chest rose as he took in a breath and raised his eyebrows at her as she rocked herself into position letting her weight settle onto him.

"That works too," he said with a lilt of surprise.

Bending her head, she touched her lips to his coaxing his mouth open with her tongue. Tentatively, his tongue met hers lightly touching, exploring, learning. He tasted like a bitter combination of wine and the Vicodin that permeated his skin. It was oddly intoxicating and pushed Remy to delve deeper to relish in the flavor of him. He was amazing and scary and she shivered with the excitement and newness of it all.

Running his hands up the length of her back, he pulled her tighter to him allowing her to deepen the kiss. She trailed her hands around to cup the sides of his face reveling in the soft tickle of his stubble against her palms. He was rough and soft all at the same time. His beard scratched at the tender skin around the corners of her mouth as she kissed him but she didn't care. His tongue, slick and hot against her, was all she wanted think about.

Pulling back from him, she looked into his eyes and shuddered, completely aroused by the feel of his hardness between her legs. "How long did they say for the food delivery?"

He blinked at her trying to register what she had asked him. "Fort-five minutes."

Grabbing his arm, she checked the time on his watch. "That gives us twenty minutes."

Careful to avoid his thigh, she peeled herself off of him and held out her hand to pull him off the couch.

"Now?" he asked her dumbly.

"Right now," she urged wiggling her fingers impatiently. "Neither one of us is going to last that long the first go around, so lets get it done and go for the marathon after dinner."

Without a second thought, he placed his hand in hers. She didn't have to ask him twice.


	19. Chapter 19

The Gauntlet

Chapter 19

House was beside himself. He was completely aware that she as touching him, kissing him, pressed up against him so close that she was suffocating him but it was like an out of body experience. He floated in between reality and the ether as her lips stroked him and her teeth nibbled on him as if she were ravenous, starving for his touch. He still couldn't believe that she was there and they were doing this right here, right now.

They were tangled in a fury of hands groping, pulling, and tugging as they tried to maneuver down the hallway to his bedroom like an octopus trapped in a net. Her tongue was like liquid velvet in his mouth as she stroked the fires of his desire for her. His hand pulled at her blouse tugging it over her head making her groan frustratedly as he broke contact with her for more than a second. She pulled at the button of his jeans fumbling with the closure because she couldn't see what she was doing. Aggravated, she abandoned her pursuit and raked her nails up his stomach instead.

They crashed into the consol table knocking off a lamp and some papers as she yanked his shirt off his body. The sound of glass breaking echoed in between the moans and sighs that escaped from the brief separation of their mouths as they tried to breath. He pushed her backwards away from the shards trying to be mindful not to step on them himself. Tugging her button free from it's whole much quicker than she had, he shoved his hands into her jeans to cup her rounded ass pulling her against his hips. She groaned deep in the back of her throat as she released him to pulled back and stare at him with her steel gray eyes. Her hair was a mess and her lips were hot and red, swollen from his kisses. She was wild with desire and lust. Plunging her hands into his hair, she gripped it tightly and yanked him back to crash against her lips again.

Her ferocious intensity spurred him on and her shoved her jeans down past her hips and knees lifting her up against him so she could kick them off. Placing her back on the floor, she began to move further down the hall pulling him with her like an animal on a leash. They crashed into the door of the bathroom and she accidentally banged her head against the molding. He eased up feeling bad for being a little too rough.

She smiled at him oblivious to the pain and groaned "Bedroom?"

"Left," he ground out slanting his lips against her throat.

She went to move into the bathroom and he pulled back. "No, my left."

Giggling, she directed him into his room spinning him around so his back was to the bed. God, she was insatiable. He couldn't breath, he couldn't think. He could only feel. And she felt incredible, amazing, extraordinarily, fan-fucking-tastic.

Shoving him with her hands square on his chest, he fell back on the mattress his weight rocking the headboard against the wall with a thud. Satisfied with his look of surprise, she smiled at him and undid his fly now that she could actually see what she was doing. In one fell swoop, she tugged his jeans and boxers down and then pulled him back up to sitting, not even bothering to look at the grotesque scar on his leg.

He swallowed hard at the sight before him. Finally able to look at her, he could actually take all of her in as she stood before him in a sexy pink lace combination. She was delicate and beautiful and sexy. He reached out for her running his hands up her flat taut stomach to cup her lace covered breast that had been taunting for days. Straddling his hips again, he growled as she rocked her hips against his bare hardness. She plunged her tongue into his mouth again slowly bring him back into her intoxicating pool. She was overwhelming and his undoing as she stole his breath from him like a succubus.

Snaking his hand between them, his trust his fingers down the front of her beautiful little panties to stroke her. She bit his lip as she cried out while his fingers slipped in her partially. He couldn't get leverage and he removed his hand to tear at the thin lace.

"No," she gasped. "Don't rip my panties."

"Then get rid of them," he growled. "I want to touch you."

She obediently stood and slipped the thin scrap of lace off of her and then undid her bra. Within seconds she was gloriously naked in front of him. She was right, neither one of them was going to last very long. He was ready to explode right now and she wasn't even touching him anymore.

She resumed her position on his lap kissing him again letting him trail his tongue down her neck to trace hot circles around her nipples with his tongue. Moan like a tigress on him, she moved against the length of him wetting him with her center. She was about to take him to her but he stopped her gripping her hips tightly with his hands.

"Condoms," he sputtered.

"Ok," she relented. He reached his hand out behind her to the night table, knocking his alarm clock off in the process. He felt the surface blindly, accidentally bumping his Vicodin bottle somewhere under the bed as he fumbled. "Fuck," he muttered. "You're gonna have to get that later," he grumbled making her chuckle against his neck. Finally he found the drawer and opened it taking out the package of condoms he'd just bought in preparation for tonight. She took the package from his hands and ripped off a foil packet opening it impatiently with her teeth. Leaning back, he supported her back with his hands as she unrolled the condom onto him with an efficiency he didn't want to think about at the moment. She was his right now in this moment and he wanted her more than any drug he'd ever taken.

Satisfied with her handiwork, she ran her tongue up the pulse in his neck and came to plunge languidly into his mouth. He touched her again now that his hand had free reign of her most intimate parts. She was hot and slick, quivering at his every touch. She bucked against his palm crying out moans of pleasure that made him frantic with the need to be inside her.

"I need you," she cried into his ear, pulling at his hair.

She took him inside her in one swift movement and he felt a roar rumble up and out of his throat on a sigh of extreme pleasure. They stayed still adjusting to the feel of one another, their eyes locked in a melding of blue and grey fire. Slowly, deliberately she began to move, rocking her hips gently over him. It was all he could do to hold on as she controlled the pace stroking, pushing, pulling. She moved faster and faster thrusting him deeper into her. Her movements became fast and furious as she rode him. He felt the first waves of her orgasm squeeze him tightly, pulling around him like a velvet glove. She arched against him sending him tumbling over the edge into his own mind-blowing release. He grunted against her throat riding out the pulsing vibrations, milking out his soul.

Satiated and spent, he collapsed back against the mattress closing his eyes. She was pure heaven if there was one. She fell forward onto his chest and he ran his hand gently over the bump he'd given her when he slammed her into the wall. He gently stroked the hair out of her face as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel the dew of his sweat mingle with hers in the hollow of his throat and he wondered how he was ever going to be able to top this. She wanted a marathon after dinner? He felt like he'd just run a four minute mile.

He opened his eyes and looked at her cradled lazily on his chest. He noticed a tattoo on her back that he'd been too blinded by ecstasy to notice before. Lifting his head to get a better view, he noticed not one but two tattoos, a pair of angel wings in the center of her back between her shoulder blades and a really large gothic cross smack in the center of her lumbar region. He wasn't normally into tattoos but that was incredibly hot. Dropping his head back against the mattress, he ran his hand down the thin sheen of sweat that was beginning to cool on her back tracing out the dark lines and felt her chuckle against his ribs.

"Surprised?" she murmured against his collarbone.

He lolled his head to the side and touched his hands to the wings wondering why she chose those, because she was no angel the way she'd just fucked him senseless.

"A little," he admitted.

"Good," she said leaning up and brushing a kiss across his lips.

Gracefully, she pulled herself off of him and walked into his bathroom. He watched her go, admiring the sway of her hips and the curve of her back decorated with those sexy tattoos as she disappeared behind the door. Running his hands over his face, pressing at his eyes he shook himself back to reality and sat up. She was going to be the death of him. If they were going to continue this 'friend with benefits' thing, she might just become his best friend in the whole wide world because that had to have been the best orgasm of his life.

Rising from the bed, he grabbed a pair of jammie pants that were draped over the footboard. Stepping into them, he went to check the time and remembered he had knocked the clock off the nightstand. _Oh shit_. They had also broken the lamp in the hallway and knocked a few picture frames down as well. Chuckling to himself, he pulled out a t-shirt for her from his chest of drawers and pulled another one over his head.

"Well that was a good time," she said coming out of the bathroom naked as a jaybird looking like Lady Godiva with a Mona Lisa smile.

He smiled at her as she stepped into his embrace kissing him lightly on his jaw. "Definitely."

She took the t-shirt from him and pulled it over her head. "Pants?"

He gave her a clean pair from his top drawer and watched her gracefully step into them before dropping to her knees to lift the hem of his bed skirt. She reached under the bed with her perfect ass sticking out at him making him think he'd never be able to wear those pants again without think about how her naked vagina was in them. Retrieving his precious Vicodin from the depths of under his bed, she stood with a breathless smile and handed the bottle to him. He palmed two pills into his mouth for good measure as a knock sounded from the front door.

"Food's here," she announced cheerily and took off to go answer the door.

"Watch out for the glass," he called after her.

"I know," she called back to him.

He shook his head as a laughed erupted from his chest. This had to be one of the smartest dumbest things he'd ever done. _Boy oh boy, was this going to be a good time._


	20. Chapter 20

The Gauntlet

Chapter 20

Remy woke to the sound of House's gentle snoring in her ear. She looked around in the dim grey light of his room and surmised that it had to be somewhere around 7:30 in the morning. Good, she had plenty of time to shower and make it into the hospital without anyone suspecting anything. She'd be able to go in, check on Maggie their patient and make it up to Diagnostics all before he even thought about waking up and coming in. For now though, she was content to just lay in the warm bed with his arms wrapped around her as he slept cuddled against her back.

She smiled into his pillow that they shared immersing herself in the scent that was purely him. House was a closet cuddler. Big, cranky tough guy was a snuggling softy underneath all of that grumpy snark. _Who knew?_ Remy thought it was absolutely adorable. He was so very unapproachable and abrasive when he was at work but he was soft and gentle and almost open when he was at home, away from everyone. That was going to take some getting used to.

Burrowing deeper into the covers, Remy curled into the warmth of his body and thought about what had occurred between them last night. She still couldn't believe she was there with him. She couldn't believe they'd touched each other as intimately as they had and she wondered how she'd be able to look him in the eye in a differential without thinking about how his eyes glazed over and rolled back in his head as he came inside her. He was utterly amazing and she honestly couldn't get enough of him. Even now, after three amazing sessions last night, she wanted more of him. But she thought about it for a second and then chuckled to herself dismissing that idea. No, she had definitely broken him on the last go around 2:00AM. He was spent, poor thing. He was sleeping hard like he was in a coma. And Remy hadn't felt this giddy in a long, long time.

Rolling over, she turned to face him so she could check the time on the alarm clock on his side of the bed. Surprisingly, he cracked one blue eye open at her and she grinned at the disgruntled look on his face because she had jostled him awake before he was ready.

"Good morning," she said propping herself up on her elbow.

He grunted at her in response.

Remy chuckled. "Are you alive?"

"No." He opened both eyes and looked around and sighed.

"Can you move?" she asked.

"Only my eyes."

Remy laughed and leaned over him to look at the clock. She was about to focus her eyes on the numbers but his hand came out of the blanket and pushed her head down to the pillow. "I guess your arm works," she said with a laugh as she snuggled closer to him. "I need to know what time it is."

"Time to go back to sleep," he mumbled pulling her into him as he rolled over onto his back.

"House, I have to get to the hospital," she protested half-heartedly. His warmth and the smell of his skin were drawing her into a sense of contentment that made her want to stay right there forever.

"New rule," he said. "Never wake me up before 9:00AM unless you plan on giving me a blow job."

"Oh yeah?" she said turning to place her hands on his bare chest and rest her chin on her knuckles.

He settled back in the pillow and closed his eyes. "Yeah, because this time of the morning is obscene and should never be viewed by my delicate eyes."

"Ok."

"Except not today," he said. "I think I might dehydrate if I release any more bodily fluids in the next twenty-four hours."

Remy chuckled. "Aww, did I were you out?"

A laugh rumbled through his chest. "Yeah. I may look like a sixteen year old stud but I'm really seventy-five."

"I think you can hold you own," she told him. "You made me scream a few times."

"What was it? 'Oh God, House! Yes, yes, yes!'" he teased keeping his head back on the pillow with his eyes closed.

"Yeah, something like that," she giggled, inching up to kiss him. He put his arms around her and nuzzled into her ear pulling her on top of him. "Hey, I though you were dehydrated?"

"I've found a mirage," he said against her throat. Remy slanted her jaw to him rolling her eyes at the magic he was creating with his tongue. Her eyes hit the clock and she froze. "Oh my God!"

"See, I told you," he chuckled, running his lips down her collarbone.

She slapped her hands on his chest to stop him. "No House. It's 9:00! I'm late for work and you're due in, in another half an hour!" She pushed herself up and he grunted at the force as she hopped out of bed.

"Relax, it's not like you're gonna get in trouble with the boss," he joked, watching her in amusement from the bed as she spun around the room trying to gather her clothes.

"What you do with my bag?"

"On the chair," he told her. She padded over to the chair, naked, dropping clothes and picking them up as she walked.

"I have to shower, " she said exasperatedly. "I smell like sex!"

"Yes, you do," he growled giving her a lecherous grin and a laugh.

She sighed at him and grabbed her bag, taking it hurriedly into the bathroom.

"Shampoo's on the short wall behind the shower curtain," he called to her. Remy looked around the room and found it. She turned on the water and grabbed her toothbrush from her bag to brush her teeth while she waited for the water to heat up.

By the time she'd showered and dressed and fixed her hair into a neat enough ponytail hoping it would dry eventually, House was out of bed and dressed in his pajama bottoms and t-shirt. Remy found him in the kitchen leaning casually against the counter. Giving her an amused half smile, he handed her a glass of orange juice. Muttering a thanks, she chugged it down, cringing against the clash of toothpaste and juice as she placed the glass on the counter.

She checked her watch. _Done in ten minutes, not bad_. She took a deep breath and leaned in to kiss him goodbye. "I'll see you in a little bit."

He nodded at her and brushed her lips with his. "See ya."

She turned to hurry off but then doubled back and grabbed his face giving him a deep satiating kiss. Sighing, she smiled against his lips. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

She was out the door in thirty seconds flat.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Remy pulled the door open to diagnostics and looked around her. The office was decorated in Christmas garland with fuzzy red stockings and a fat little Santa on the shelf. _Oooo, he's going to be mad_… she thought as she took in the festivity. House was going to be so pissed.

Grinning, she placed her bag on the leather chair and exchanged her coat for her lab coat.

"Bad morning?" Foreman questioned as he looked up at her from his stack of files.

"Nope," she replied going for a cup of coffee.

"You're late," Taub stated.

"Yup," she said replacing the carafe on the burner.

"The day after he brings you back, you show up two hours late?" Taub questioned.

Kutner laughed. "That takes balls." She stared at him sharply as she sat down. "Which you don't have 'cuz you're a girl, " he amended sheepishly.

"My alarm didn't go off, big deal," Remy lied sipping her coffee. "It's not like he'll know."

They all shrugged dismissing it as totally plausible.

Kutner picked up a candy cane and licked it. "You think it's over?"

"This conversation, yes," Remy quipped.

"I meant the game," he said "You think he's gonna keep all four of us?"

Foreman spoke up. "Said he would."

Remy saw House entering quietly behind Kutner from the corner of her eye. She forced herself not to look at him.

Stupidly Kutner, snorted in dopey jest. "He lies."

"My ears are burning," House said in a slightly amused tone.

Kutner froze, eyes widening over his drink before he turned around to stare at House like a rat caught in a trap. Remy braved a glance at House and smirked. _Oh God_… He looked incredible in a wrinkled light blue shirt over a dark navy t-shirt, both effectively making his eyes more brilliant than normal. She felt her stomach do little flip-flop and focused back on her coffee. Goddamn him, he was too good-looking. This was going to be harder than she thought.

"Tell him you're done firing people," Foreman ordered boredly from his seat.

"Well _if I lie_, that would be little reassurance," House groused, glancing up and rolling his eyes. He made a disgruntled angry face and started tearing down the streamers with his cane. "Dr. Kutner, who told you that it would be a good idea to put up superficial representations of a hypocritical season celebrating a mythical figure?" Pieces of glitter and colored Mylar from the garlands rained down on them getting stuck in their hair as he unceremoniously ripped down all of the festive decorations.

Kutner frowned and said, "Wasn't me."

"_He lied_," House tagged sarcastically making his point. He picked up the fat Santa and looked at it oddly before tossing it into the trashcan with the clank of a jungle bell. "Homie knows better, Hymie doesn't care, and..." he said eyeing her, "she didn't have enough time."

Remy fixed him with a wide-eyed stare. "How do you know I didn't have enough time?"

House froze and dropped his mouth open caught in a huge slip of the tongue. "Because… Dr. Cuddy… told me you just walked in the door," he fibbed, picking up speed and settling into it with a serious frown.

Foreman looked at him oddly, "Why would Dr. Cuddy…"

"You've been a bad, bad girl," House cut Foreman off trashing more streamers. "Taking advantage while the Boss-man's not here. Tsk, tsk…"

Remy stared at him and swallowed. _What the fuck was he doing_? He was going to give it away.

Once again oblivious and caught up in his own shit, Kutner looked at him with a confused expression on his brow. "So, am I fired because I put up…"

Remy rolled her eyes. "The point of the game was to scare us. Telling us it's over isn't scary, therefore he has no reason to say that unless it's true." She leveled her eyes at House with a challenging gaze, hoping that everyone else would get off the scent of his blunder and her being late.

House smiled broadly at her and nodded. "She's right."

Immediately, Kutner perked up. "Good. Then can we do a Secret Santa?" Taub scoffed and Foreman looked at him like he was an idiot.

House rolled his eyes. "I liked you fifteen seconds ago when you were afraid for your job." He tore down more of the streamers happily offending him in the merry glitter by the coffee bar before gabbing his mug to pour himself a cup. "So, how's our patient?"

"You were right about the drugs," Taub jumped in happy that they were now back on an appropriate line of conversation like their patient. "The date slipped her Ecstasy."

House looked at him while he sipped his coffee. "He have any symptoms?"

Taub shook his head. "No. Kutner started her on hemodialysis and the lab's testing to see what the guy put in the drugs."

All of their pagers went off in a chorus of loud chirps. Looking at the message, Taub announced "Maggie's gone blind."

"Well, that can't be good," House said pouring creamer into his coffee.

All four of them stood and filed out of the room. Thirteen was the last to exit but not before House came up along side her. She could smell the scent of his soap on his freshly cleaned skin and the shampoo essence in his slightly damp hair. She closed her eyes and swallowed, blinking at him as he smirked at her.

"Nice fuck up," she muttered quietly.

"You make me stupid," he whispered and went to pull a piece of streamer out of her hair.

She slapped at his hand and swiped it out herself. "Ah, no touch!"

He grinned at her and turned limping into his office on a chuckle. He sang out in a velvety baritone that made Remy wonder just what dimension she actually woke up in this morning. "_Sleigh bells ring, are ya listenin', In the lane, snow is glitenin'… A beautiful sight, We're happy tonight. Walking in a winter wonderland..."_

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_A/N: Hello! So… I hope all of you thoroughly enjoyed the last two chapters. My computer almost burned up as I was writing it! Woo…my God! I decided to be kind and post the two back to back on the same day because that so would not have been fair to leave you hanging with only her chapter ad have to wait for his chapter. Right? But I fear that some of you guys might have over looked her chapter by accident and you really need it for the story to go on… so if you missed it, go back and read it and then read his again because hot damn! Why not?_

_Ok, so yes, obviously I am going with the Christmas thing. I didn't think this episode was going to be of any use to me as far as where I wanted my story to go, but it's turning out to be a valuable tool. So hold on for the ride, thinks are getting complicated. Enjoy!_


	21. Chapter 21

The Gauntlet

Chapter 21

"You're singing," Wilson exclaimed coming up to him in line at the cafeteria.

"No I'm not," House said grabbing another package of chocolate pudding to go with his bacon cheeseburger. He was completely unaware that he was humming along with the Muzak playing out of the speakers overhead.

"Yes, you are," Wilson insisted. "You're singing Christmas carols?" He dropped his voice low and leaned in close. "You had sex last night!"

"What? No," House laughed in disbelief. _How the fuck could he possibly know that?_

"No. You definitely had sex," Wilson pressed. "You only sing when you're drunk or you've had sex. And you're certainly not drunk, because you're standing upright, albeit it a little bit gingerly, which means - _you had sex_!"

House ignored him and moved down the line, stiffly. He grimaced as his glutes complained all the way up into his back. "You're so off base," he lied.

Wilson grabbed a yogurt and a banana and followed him, automatically taking out his wallet to pay the cashier. "Uh, uh. I think you hit all the bases and scored a couple of homeruns." They walked out to the seat to find a table. "You're walking like you're eighty-five."

"I have a bum leg," House protested.

They found a table with a booth. Wilson slipped in easily while House tried to casually glide himself in but his hammies were having none of it. He had to put his hands down on the bench and inch his butt in tenderly, much to Wilson's amusement. _Damn it, he should have taken one of the tables with chairs. _There was no way, Wilson was going to let this go.

"She's got to be amazing," Wilson speculated in awe.

House grinned, despite his best efforts to keep it under wraps, and shook his head chuckling. Rule number one was not to share out side of the two of them, but damn, he could not keep this information to himself. "We broke stuff," House said in bemused astonishment.

Wilson's mouth dropped open in astounded wonder. He squirmed around like he'd just won the jackpot. "I knew it! I knew it!" He actually did a fist pump. "Yes!"

House opened his pudding and licked the chocolate off of the foil wrapper. "That's what she said."

Wilson chuckled and leaned in conspiratorially. "You broke stuff?"

House nodded. "A five hundred dollar antique lamp and all three pictures going down the hall."

"Holly shit!"

"I know!" He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I literally cannot walk today."

"That good?" Wilson stared at him in amazement.

"Remember your yoga instructor from last summer," House reminded him and Wilson nodded in dazed reminiscence, "the one that fucked up your back so bad you had to see a chiropractor?"

"Yeah…" he mused.

"That good. Maybe better," House bragged.

Wilson dropped his jaw even further open in bewildered envy. "So I assume you're going to keep seeing her…"

"Hells yeah!" House said confidently. "This 'friends with benefits thing' is the best idea ever. All the benefits of a relationship but without the relationship. It's perfect."

"You guys were fine this morning?"

"Totally copasetic," he said.

Wilson nodded, impressed.

"She was late coming in this morning, but I think we covered it pretty…"

Suddenly Wilson's eyes widened and he covered his mouth with his and to muffle his speech. "In coming…"

House looked over his shoulder; Thirteen was nearing him with a cup of hot tea in her hand and a salad wrapped to go. Her eyes narrowed at him when she saw the culpable look on Wilson's face and House kicked him under the table.

"Ow, hey…" Wilson whined reaching down to rub his shin.

"Stop looking so guilty," he ground out through his teeth.

Clicking her tongue, she set her chin angrily and stormed off in a huff. House dropped his eyes to his tray. "Fuck."

"What?"

"First rule was to keep it between us. She knows _now_ that you know," he muttered.

"What is it like Fight Club, first rule of Fight Club is never talk about Fight Club?"

"Yeah, something like that," House said sarcastically.

"What, I'm not going to say anything," Wilson defended himself.

"I know that," he said. "They problem is she doesn't."

If he could move faster, he would have gone after her but there was no way he could get out the booth and catch up to her. Plus, it was probably better to let her cool off than to actually talk to her right now. So he left well enough alone and finished his lunch. He'd deal with her pissiness later.

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After lunch in the Diagnostic's office, House had decided that maybe Kutner's Secret Santa thing could have some benefits of its own. He could sow some dissention and have fun watching them scramble to impress him.

In a decidedly cheerful mood, he wrote out names on little pieces of paper and folded them in fours.

He saw them coming down the hallway from between the slats of the blinds covering the glass wall. Thirteen entered the room first and tossed the file at him with a little too much English on it, sending his papers fluttering off the table. "Nothing in the Ecstasy except Ecstasy."

"Well that never hurt anybody," he muttered sarcastically as he bent from the side to pick up his slips of paper. _Ah God, even bending to the side fucking hurt_. And she was pissed. He could tell because her eyes were burning a whole through his shirt right down to his skeleton. Okay…

Foreman took a seat across the table from her and crossed his legs settling in. "Ecstasy can't make people blind days later."

House looked at one of the slips of paper in his hands, and frowned. "Do you spell "Homie" with a Y?"

Kutner glanced up from his seat next to him, intrigued, but House folded the paper up without letting him see what he'd written.

"I want to be respectful," House said in mock reverence. Foreman looked at him with a peculiar expression on his face and he responded by flashing him a disarming smirk.

Kutner sat in his chair and grinned like an idiot. "You're actually going to let us do Secret Santa?"

"Not just you guys," he said excitedly and turned around to grab a Christmas socking putting the slips of paper inside. Shaking it up to mix them, he said happily. "I like presents too." Thirteen eyed him from the corner of the table speculatively. If she raised her eyebrow any higher, it would have become part of her hair. Ignoring her, he grinned and offered the stocking up to Taub who was sitting next to him. "Pick a name."

Taub looked at him suspiciously. "Why are you doing this?"

House rolled his eyes. "See, this is why no one likes your people."

Taub scoffed almost looking offended. Everyone else just snorted in half-hearted contempt; Thirteen the loudest.

"The notion of picking one time of the year to be decent to other people is obscene, because it's actually validating the notion of being miserable wretches the rest of the year," House explained.

Foreman laughed dryly. "So you think _this_ is the part of the year that's screwed up?"

House shrugged. "On the other hand, you are now a team," he said looking at Thirteen. "Gotta work together and the simple fact is, giving people crap makes people like people." She rolled her eyes at him and he smirked. "So spend twenty-five bucks." He turned to Taub. "Learn to love…"

Taub stared blankly at him seemingly unimpressed but deciding it was best to indulge him anyway. He shoved his hand in to pick a name out of the stocking.

Thirteen shot him a disgusted glare and looked at Foreman. "Blindness could be a complication from the hemodialysis," she said, avoiding all parts of the Christmas conversation.

House offered the stocking to Kutner next who smiled graciously and stuck his hand in.

"No, the dialysate composition was within range," the young puppy disagreed looking at the name on his slip of paper. He nodded smiling to himself, pleased with his choice. "Sweet."

House eyed him curiously. "Interesting."

Thirteen shot House a look of annoyance. "The dialysate composition just indicates…"

"Indicates nothing…" he cut her off. "I was referring to his reaction to the name he got."

Kutner chuckled joyfully. "I was pleased. I thought it'd be fun to buy for…"

"Means… there's someone here who wouldn't be fun to buy for…" he said cutting Kutner off too and stared at him purposefully. "I wonder who?"

House turned his attention to Thirteen next who looked like she was about to pummel him with a very blunt object. _Ooo, she's fierce when she's pissed_ … and he was pushing all of the right buttons today. He reached across the table to offer up the stocking to her and winced as his back twinged in achy discomfort. She raised her eyebrows pointedly at him and he narrowed his eyes. "Pick a name, then go check out the patient's house," he ordered.

Begrudgingly, she obeyed and stuck her hand into the stocking. He squeezed her hand while it was in there and she fired a laser glare at him yanking her hand out. She looked at her choice and push out her chin, thoroughly displeased with her selection. Crumpling it, she shoved it into the pocket of her lab coat presumably to forget about it.

House smiled slowly. "Interesting…"

Thirteen looked at him and they locked eyes for a moment, the electricity crackled between them. She almost smiled, but caught herself remembering that she was mad at him. Instead she narrowed her eyes even more at him and looked away making him chuckle to himself. She'll come around; she's not immune to him like she thought she was.

"We're wasting time going to the home," Foreman announced taking a name from the stocking. He tucked it into his jacket's inner pocket without even looking. "Kearns-Sayer syndrome fits the symptoms."

House shook his head. "No family history of Kearns. Go to their house…"

Thirteen shook her head. "They would have told us if there were any other drugs," she interrupted him. "You met her, she couldn't have been more candid."

He breathed impatiently. He hated when she cut him off like that. "You're absolutely right. Go to their house…"

"MS or a vascular problem fits better," this time it was Taub who cut him off. "They could affect hands and eyes."

House let out a breath. "Fine. Do an MRI, check for MS. And a fluorescein angiogram of her eyes to see if we missed a bleed somewhere," he ordered begrudgingly. The group rose from their seats ready to leave. "Oh! And whoever goes to their house… get me their computers."

They all look at him obviously frustrated that he wouldn't drop the subject. Didn't they know how stubborn he was yet?

"You talk to your kid about sex so she'll think you're being open about everything. Keeps her from asking questions about the things you don't want to talk about," he justified his insistence on them going to the house, reaching in to grab the last name from the stocking for himself.

Thirteen put her hand on her hip forcing her curve to jut out seductively at an angle that made his mouth go dry. HE knew what was under those sexy jeans and that blouse, and it was getting a little warm in there. "That's right," she said drolly. "Her _honesty_ proves just how _dishonest_ she is." _Uh oh, there was that subtext again… Wow, she was really mad at him._

Forcing himself to ignore her, he looked at his slip of paper. "Yes! Exactly who I wanted," he exclaimed merrily. "This is going to be fun."

She rolled her eyes one more time at him and stormed out of the office bitching to Kutner about having to go all the way to the patient's house on a wild goose chase for lies they'd never find. Kutner followed after her like the little puppy he was. House shook his head and laughed out loud. This whole day was chalking up to be quite interesting.


	22. Chapter 22

The Gauntlet

Chapter 22

Later that afternoon, Remy leaned against the short row of shelves behind House's desk as he repeatedly tried to hack into Maggie and Jane's computers that he so annoyingly insisted that they get from the home. The computer beeped at him again, taunting him in his failure. He was slowly getting more impatient and he was slowly starting to irk the shit out of her.

"Fluorescein angiogram of her eyes was clear," Taub prattled on. "No leaks, no lesions, definitely not a vascular problem."

House frowned at the computer, ignoring what Taub just said, and turned back to Remy holding his hand out, impatiently wiggling his fingers. "Get their birthdays out of the file," he ordered.

Uncrossing her arms, she stepped forward. "Have you tried leaving it blank?" She bent close over his shoulder and deleted his last entry, leaving it empty and tapped the return button. He turned his head, a scant few inches from her face and she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Instantly the computer logged on. She smirked at him and he frowned disappointedly like a child who had just been beaten at his own game.

Staying down over his shoulder by his ear she sarcastically said, "Tough to get into the head of someone who actually trusts people, huh?" He rolled his eyes at her and she stood up returning to her position on the shelves. "Found both computers in an office, on a desk they _share_."

"No sign of macular degeneration or optic neuritis," Taub continued. "Her eyes are completely normal."

"Except she can't see out of them," Foreman added.

"So she says. Find anything on the MRI?" House asked as he began to search through the documents on the desktop.

"No sign of plaques. It's not MS." Foreman stated.

"We haven't found anything abnormal on any test," Taub said frustratedly.

"Except she can't see or move her hands," Kutner added from the yellow chair.

"So she says," House insisted again, more annoyingly.

"You can't lie about flaccid paralysis," Remy stated in irritation. _How cold he possibly think the woman was faking that?_

"Maybe she's not lying…" Foreman agreed, a thought germinating in his brain.

House paused and looked up from the computer intrigued by Foreman's tone.

"Maybe her brain is," the neurologist suggested. "What if it's a conversion disorder?"

House smirked and mused out loud. "Lacks personal boundaries… Promiscuous… Inappropriate obsession with truth-telling…" He tossed Remy a look over his shoulder with his big eyes. "Certainly sounds like a psych case." Remy stabbed him with a glare. _Damn if only she had laser heat vision… she'd fucking burn his eyes out. 'What happens here stays between you and me', Ha! Liar, liar pants on fire._

"Cool. I'll set up a psych consult and start her on anti-depressants," Kutner agreed getting up to move.

"Nope." House stopped him.

Kutner turned back around, confused. Everyone else was for that matter, as well.

"Her mind is tricking her body," House said. "We need to trick her mind." He paused thinking for a moment. "Or even better…"

House grabbed his cane and stood up. The determination in his eyes worried Remy to the point that she followed him out of the room into the hallway. He was going to Maggie's room to get Jane. He had some twisted sort of plan.

"You don't need her," she said catching up to him.

"I know." He stated, giving her a sidelong glance.

"Then this serves no medical purpose," she said.

Once they were away from everyone, he turned his head to look at her. "So are you done being mad at me?" he questioned raising his eyebrows.

"No." Remy stopped off to the side of the hallway forcing him to double back when he realized she wasn't with him anymore. She leaned against the wall and stared at him crossing her arms.

He rolled his eyes at her and stepped closer to her dropping his voice. "Your mad at me because I told my best friend about how amazing you were and what a fantastic night I had last night. You should be flattered."

"You weren't supposed to tell. You're rule, not mine." Remy looked away from him, not wanting to forgive him. _But… he thought she was amazing._ A little butterfly danced in her stomach.

"It's just Wilson," he said moving even closer into her space. A nurse walked by and she shoved him back a couple of inches looking around apprehensively. He frowned at her and sighed. He, too, knew they had to be careful or they would be caught.

"What the hell good are rules if you're going to break them? Didn't you say there was no exception to any rule? Except for Wilson? He's your exception?" she pouted.

"I know what I said," he stated argumentatively.

Remy sighed in exasperation. "You're so caught up in this truth telling…Is she lying, what's she hiding, she shouldn't tell Jane the truth… And what's with the freaking Secret Santa if you hate Christmas so much? You're such a hypocrite."

"Oh, I'm the hypocrite? I'm not the one who's so hell bent on proving they're telling the truth, because you're so busy avoiding the truth of your own condition," he shot at her.

Remy gasped at him. "Oh great, that's just perfect. Why don't we break all the fucking rules while we're at it? I love you. Love, love, love, love, love, " she taunted. _Motherfucker… of course he'd throw up her test results in her face. She'd been waiting for that shoe to drop for weeks now._

He inhaled sharply in irritation. "Technically I didn't break my rule, the team doesn't…" Remy's phone rang in her pocket. Damn it, she'd forgotten to put it on vibrate. Distractedly, she plucked it out to silence the ringer. Rolling her eyes as she saw the picture, she dropped it back into her lab coat pocket.

"Who was that?"

"It was nobody," she stated in a clipped tone.

He tipped his head at her and raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Nobody?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "It was my best friend, Teddy."

His brow furrowed in consternation. "Your best friend is a _guy_?"

Remy arched an eyebrow at him. "Maybe…" she said evasively. Why was that so had to believe?

He looked at her stymied for a second, shifting his weight to rest on his cane. "Are you… 'friends with benefits'?"

_He was jealous_. Remy almost laughed. _Oh my god_. "What do you care?"

He blinked his eyes, shaking his head in confusion. "What do you mean 'what do I care'? I don't want you fucking anybody else while you're fucking me."

Remy narrowed her eyes at him curiously. Not the nicest way to put it but she got his point. "You want exclusivity?"

"I don't think that's too much to ask," he grumbled.

Remy stood back, floored. "House, that's not 'friends with benefits' that's dating."

"No it's not," he argued. "Dating is…"

"Having sex with only one person at a time…"

"Dating is flowers, and fancy restaurants and all that shit I don't do."

"And having sex with only one person at a time…"

"We're not dating…"

Remy rolled her eyes and turned to walk away from him back to the office. "Whatever…"

House rolled his eyes in frustration. "I need you," he stated. Remy tilted her head in misunderstanding. Realizing she wasn't on his page, he rolled his eyes again and jerked his head in the direction of Maggie's room indicating that that was what he meant.

Remy turned back around and shook her head. _God he was such a pain in the ass._ He could push her buttons like she was a freaking piano. "I'm not lying to her," she told him, meaning Jane.

"Fine, keep your mouth shut. I still need you," he repeated. "If it doesn't work, you gotta hold the kid down until someone else finishes lying to mom."

She gave him a skeptical look and he merely nodded at her. How he could flip from one conversation to the next without blinking an eye was dizzying.

"That does actually serve a medical purpose," he told her.

Remy gave in and House slid the door to the room open to catch the daughter's attention.

"Jane," he called quietly nodding his head for her to come out.

They moved to the couches across from nurse's station. Remy stayed by the counter and pretended to read a file while House talked to Jane. She listened with half an ear to what he was saying to the little girl. _My god, he was so full of shit_. Remy rolled her eyes in aggravation. He annoyed her so much sometimes. But he also excited her like there was no tomorrow. She found herself smiling like and idiot. Looking around, she pressed her lips into a practiced line of disinterest. _So, he was jealous?_ _Of Teddy…Ha! If only he knew.._. She wasn't really expecting that. Nor was she expecting the exclusivity thing. But then again she shouldn't be surprised. He didn't seem the type to want to share his favorite toy with anyone. This was definitely an interesting development.

Remy brought her eyes to Jane who was looking at House like he was the creepiest guy in the world. "I have to lie because she trusts me?"

"If you show doubt, the placebo treatment won't work," he explained.

"If it's just depression, that's good news right?" Jane asked.

House nodded. "There are a lot of great medications."

"So why can't we just give her those? Why do we have to lie to her?"

"Because we might be wrong. And those medications take a long time to work and since your mom's condition is declining, there's a chance the drugs won't tell us anything until it's too late." _Good lord, Remy needed a pair of hip waders, he was shoveling it so deep._

Jane still didn't seem convinced. "My mom's not depressed."

"Maybe she's hiding it from you," he suggested. His voice took on that syrupy timbre of fake concern.

Jane shook her head. "No. She wouldn't…"

He shook his head softly at her. "She's just doing what every good mom does. Protecting her child from bad news that she can't do anything about."

"My mom's never lied to me," she insisted.

"If you don't know how to lie," he argued, "you don't know how to tell when you're being lied to."

Jane stared at him for a moment and then dropped her eyes contemplatively, seeming as if she was going to relent. "Maybe you're right…"

"I know…" House began.

"I was lying," Jane stated succinctly flashing him a snotty look. "I know how to lie. I just won't do it to my mother." _Ooo, she told him. He was caught in his own game. Way to go Jane!_

House licked his lips in frustration and glanced sharply up at Remy. She shut the file she'd been pretending to read and moved over to look at Jane deciding she needed to bail him out before he strangled the little girl.

"You like foosball?"

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"So I don't see what the big deal is if we increase it by ten dollars," Kutner said as he turned his foosball rails.

"Because, ten becomes fifteen and fifteen becomes twenty," Foreman objected blocking his shot.

"There's no need to spend more than he originally said," Remy said hoping this whole line of nonsense was going to be put to rest. It was bad enough she pulled his name out of the stocking. She was pissed at him. She didn't want to buy him a present. She was angry because he lied about the 'rules'. That wasn't fair to put stipulations on their arrangement and then go and blatantly ignore those rules to share with someone else. With Wilson! She had to see the man practically everyday and now he knew about their sexcapades.

"Why don't we just double the amount we spend?" Kutner forged on, all the while Jane watched in confused amusement that these adults who were quibbling about buying gifts for each other.

"You give people fifty, they'll spend sixty, no way," Foreman argued.

"You must really want to impress whoever you have," Jane said spinning her player kicking the ball down to the end.

"There's only one person, who he'd need to impress," Foreman said with a laugh.

Remy stopped and looked up at him. "Who do you have?"

Jane looked to all three of them, intrigued.

"I'm not telling," Kutner backed off sheepishly.

"You don't have House," Remy said.

"Wait, I know he doesn't have House," Foreman said and the grimaced the thought dawning on him.

They looked at each other in hesitated shock, both saying, "No."

"Wait a minute, you guys have House too," Kutner asked, finally catching on.

Remy gasped in outrage. _That son of a bitch_! _What the hell kind of game was he playing now?_

"Why would he do that?" Kutner asked stupidly echoing her thoughts.

"To fu… _mess_ with us, " he said changing his word when he remembered they were in front of Jane.

"What are we going to do?" Kutner asked. "We still have to get him something."

"Absolutely not," Remy seethed. _He wasn't getting shit now!_

Foreman crossed him arms. "Not a chance!"

"We weren't supposed to discuss this," Kutner said. "We're not supposed to know."

"He's not supposed to put his name in there five times!" Foreman exclaimed.

Jane smiled sympathetically and looked at them. "He wants presents. It's sad…"

"It's pathetic," Remy spat. _God!_

"Maybe you should all get him something anyway," Jane suggested.

"Why?" Remy asked her. "He did this on purpose, to prove something, he doesn't really want anything from any of us."

"So maybe you do it to get back at him," she countered. "My mom always get the nicest presents for the teachers I have the most trouble with. She says to kill them with kindness."

Foreman raised his eyebrows at her and then looked at Remy. "It's not a bad idea. He hates kindness. And it would surely kill him."

"Yeah," Kutner said nodding his head in agreement. "Turn the game around on him."

"Come on, you know better than anyone, you can't best him at his own game," Remy said to Foreman.

"Maybe he'll feel bad for messing with you if you're all super nice to him and get him nice things," Jane supplied.

Remy laughed out loud. "House doesn't feel bad and he doesn't apologize."

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House put his coat on and stored Maggie's laptop in his backpack before swinging it onto his back. He turned his lights out in his office and paused at the door between his office and theirs. Thirteen was sitting at the table with her back to the door recording something in a file. Braving a shot with her, he limped over to the table and stood next to her.

"You should go home, get something to eat," he said causing her to look up at him. He wanted to ask her to come with him, tell her they could order take out again but he didn't think she'd go for it. She was looking a little distant.

"I have to stay here and monitor Maggie's condition," she said.

He nodded. "Are you really still upset?"

"Were you really serious about being exclusive?" she countered looking him dead in the eye. _Was he?_ He didn't know. The truth was the thought of someone else touching her they way he'd touched her last night made his blood boil.

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"Then maybe I'm not still upset," she said.

House regarded her for a moment. She was watching him with that passive, mysterious look again that he couldn't read. She never outright lied; this much was true. Her lies were lies of omission, so when she said something he could usually take it at face value. Maybe that meant she was not still angry with him, so long as they were together in a 'relationship' or rather exclusively having sex with only each other.

Guarded, he nodded and simply said, "Ok."

The corner of her mouth tipped into the beginning of a smile. "Ok."

He smiled a little and then began to walk out but paused. "Don't stay too late, you have a Secret Santa gift to buy."

Thirteen rolled her eyes at him and chuckled. "It's already taken care of."

He raised his eyebrow at her. "You in a bow?"

"Nope, you'll just have to wait and see."

_Nice!_


	23. Chapter 23

The Gauntlet

Chapter 23

"Last night, swollen lymph nodes were cutting off Maggie's airway," Foreman said crossing his arms nonchalantly as he informed him of their patient's status this morning. "We shrunk them with alcohol, she's breathing on her own now."

House rested his head in his hand and gave the duckies a disappointed look. "Well, that sucks."

Taub, who was standing to the side of his desk, raised his eyebrows at his answer.

House waved his hand dejectedly at the laptop screen sitting on his desk. "4300 saved emails and not a single mention of 'lesbionic', 'sanchez' or 'man-gina'."

Thirteen eyes widened from her chair across from him and then her eyebrows narrowed in annoyance. Her hair was down today, long and wavy like he liked it. She had on a dark navy colored blouse that made her eyes a cool, steel gray and she was wearing some kind of long pendant necklace with a polished pink stone in it. He'd seen her wear it before but now the significance of the pink made a hell of a lot more sense to him. He wondered how many other pieces of pink lingerie she had at her disposal. She was gorgeous sitting there in that boring instituional chair and somewhere in the distinct echoes of his mind he actually missed her last night.

"You spent all night reading through 4300 emails," she asked him incredulously.

He looked at her and gave her an exaggerated frown. "Sure, I had nothing better to do."

Arching her eyebrow at him, she fixed him with a stare totally understanding the double meaning in his response. There was slight, tiny little bit of a smile on her lips. _Maybe she wasn't quite so mad at him any more._

Frowning for real in a tinge of frustration, House brought his attention back to the case and stated, "Swollen lymph nodes means it wasn't psychological." So Liar Mom wasn't crazy in the clinical sense, just in the insanely open and truthful sense, which seemed like an oxymoron to him.

Kutner perked up, suddenly, as he spied a small wrapped gift on House's desk. "Who's that from?"

House glanced at the present and shrugged. "Santa, obviously. Because you know I worship him," he quipped and then paused, frowning. "No wait, I mean Satan. I always get them confused." Foreman snorted at him in irritation. _Man, he was cranky this morning_. House continued to read through emails. "What is… an 'alpine butterfly'? And why is she learning how to do one?"

Taub moved over to peer over House's shoulder and read the email.

"House, we already have a full history," Foreman objected. "You don't need to waste time…"

Interrupting him, House announced in disappointment, "Bummer, it's just a climbing knot," as the next sentence in the email made sense.

Taub put his hands in his pockets, curiously. "But what does she use it for? Try "bondage"."

Thirteen glared at Taub for indulging House's curiosity.

Smiling, House couldn't resist. "I did once," he stated sarcastically. "But she just tied me down and whined about how hard it is to be Dean of Medicine."

House flicked his eyes to Thirteen who was staring back at him with her mouth open slightly in shock. She looked a little jealous. _Interesting_. Foreman on the other hand actually dropped his head, attempting to hide his amusement at his statement. That one he thought was funny.

Kutner moved closer to the desk behind Thirteen's chair. "Gyms aren't exactly pristine, could be a fungal infection." He nodded to the present on the corner of the desk again. "Seriously, who's it from?"

"No fever, no elevated white count." Foreman shook his head, disagreeing with Kutner's assumption.

House cycled through to the next email and laughed out loud. "That's funny… Friend sent her a Garfield cartoon. That cat sure does love lasagna."

"House!" Thirteen exclaimed as she finally had enough of his antics and slammed the laptop lid down on his hand. "Stop obsessing!"

He paused for a moment and took a breath, looking at her. "If it weren't for my obsessions, you wouldn't know that she has sarcoidosis."

She narrowed her eyes speculatively at him as the rest of the duckies all stared at him while he turned the laptop around to show them. _He always had a point to his theatrics, when were they going to get that?_

"Eighteen months ago, she sold her Stairmaster. It was only two months old. Now either she needed the cash or climbing stairs was getting more difficult," he began taking a sip out of his coffee cup. Continuing, he scrolled through the emails to show them. "Twelve months ago, she cancelled a hiking trip. Now she either just wanted to sit home and watch TV or walking was getting more difficult. She's been suffering joint pain for the last two years."

Thirteen was beginning to look properly chagrinned as she read through his 'proof'.

Still wanting to toy with her because it was so much fun, House picked up the present box and held it out to Thirteen. She gave him a cautious look as she eyed the big red velvet bow.

"Pull my ribbon," he said, mockingly seductive. "If you know what I mean."

"ACE levels are too low for sarcoidosis," she stated ignoring him. He continued to gaze at her taunting her with his eyes. Staring back at him for a long moment, she finally reached her hand up and tugged hard on the ribbon, yanking it loose. He almost lost the box in the process but he tightened his grip.

Smirking, he tilted his head on a curious angle. "That's not what I meant." She snorted at him and crossed her arms stubbornly. He proceeded to open the present, keeping his eyes trained on her for a moment. Man oh man, he really wanted to kiss those impertinent lips of hers. Blinking his eyes to get that vision from his mind, he turned back to the others. "Could just be an inactive phase," he supplied.

"It's not Christmas yet," Kutner said cautiously, still preoccupied with the present. "It's not until tomorrow."

"I remembered. I'm not a Satanist, I'm a druid." He quipped and continued to unwrap the present.

Foreman, used to his antics, ignored the whole present issue. "No lung involvement."

"Yet," House amended.

"We'll need a bronchoalveolar lavage to confirm it," Taub suggested.

"How exciting, now you can go and surprise her with one for Christmas," House told him.

The ducklings got up to leave and House finally unwrapped his present to reveal an iPhone. "Wow!" he exclaimed in supreme mock amazement.

They all stopped and turned back to look at him unable to resists the temptation to see what he was going on about.

House grinned holding up the phone. "Now either that cost more than 25 bucks or I'm seriously starting to doubt Steve Jobs' business strategies."

Thirteen rolled her eyes at him and Kutner looked utterly speechless. House almost bust out laughing. This was too good.

"Thanks!" he added waving the phone at them.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

House spied Wilson eating a bagel as he read over a case file in the cafeteria with his coffee. House limped purposefully over and handed the iPhone back to him, taking a seat across from him. Taking the phone, Wilson rolled his eyes and tried to control his anger albeit quite ineffectively.

"I'm sure they're arguing right now," House stated triumphantly.

"I've been looking for this all morning," Wilson exclaimed.

"Did you look in the box on my desk?" House asked cheekily. "Oh by the way, your mom called. Your dad's dead."

Wilson sighed in aggravation, knowing that was an out and out lie because his father was already dead, and put the iPhone back into his pocket. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "And your purpose for this convoluted exercise is?"

"To sow some dissention and get some ties and sweaters in the process."

"Oh that's good," he quipped sarcastically. "Tear them down to bring them together in merino wool, is that the idea?"

House grabbed a piece of his bagel and chewed on it. "Yeah, something like that."

"You know they're going to revolt right?"

"They don't have it in them," House stated confidently. "They're too busy worrying about keeping their jobs."

Wilson shrugged. "I wouldn't be so sure."

"Why, what do you know," House asked him suspiciously.

Wilson looked around the cafeteria conspiratorially to make sure the coast was clear. He leaned in and gave House a clandestine look. "She came to see me yesterday," Wilson told him.

House paused and tilted his head in concern. "What for?"

"She told me about the Secret Santa ruse," Wilson said. "They want to teach you a lesson."

House snorted in laughter. "She can tie me up and teach me a lesson all she wants."

"I'm sure that would be fun." Wilson shrugged. "I told them trying to teach you a lesson was like pissing in a wind storm, but…"

"So, what are they going to do," he pressed.

"That I'm not allowed to tell you," Wilson said with a grin.

House narrowed his eyes at him. "You know and you're not going to tell me? That means you're part of it."

"Yup," he stated picking up his folder and coffee cup as he stood. "Let that little tidbit sit in your saddle all day and fester."

Wilson left him sitting at the table with is mouth open in shock. Now, he was seriously intrigued. What were they planning? And how exactly did they think they were going to get him back? They could never best him at his own game.

_And dude, what was with Wilson and the cowboy metaphors lately?_


	24. Chapter 24

The Gauntlet

Chapter 24

The day had gone rapidly downhill after the bronchoalveolar lavage. Liar Mom wound up bleeding from her eyes, which lead them to believe that she had something going on in her bone marrow to cause her bleeding and her platelets to drop so suddenly. However, that afternoon, when Chase went to perform the bone marrow biopsy, he couldn't drill into the bone because it had calcified and was turning to stone in a rare condition called osteopetrosis. The only treatable cause for such a phenomenon was a Carbonic Anhydrase Type 2 Deficiency; all others were fatal. If the blood test confirmed, then she would need a bone marrow transplant. Taub was in telling the patient right now while Thirteen was testing the blood.

House sat at his desk, tossing his red and gray thinking ball in the air. He was flummoxed by the information that the ducklings had conspired against him with Wilson to get him back for his stupid Secret Santa ruse. He really didn't get what was such a big deal. It was a joke and for $25 a person, how bad could it really be? He wondered what they were going to do for retaliation. Was it going to be like pigs blood ala _Carrie_? Or a stocking full of dog shit instead of coal? However, with Wilson on board it threw a whole other dynamic into the mix. His best friend tended to be more subversive when it came to retribution. Overt, practical jokes weren't his style so House was curious. It was nearing dinnertime and they didn't have a whole lot of time left to get him back before the bells of Christmas rang merrily throughout the land.

House was never one to enjoy Christmas, especially as an adult. It was superficial and pointless to get people gifts on one specific day of the year in commercialized celebration of the birth of Christ. It held no meaning, no substance, and no purpose. Yet, there was this undeniable truth that presents did make people happy. _Presents_ served a purpose. They were tools to communication. Give a gift that was generic and you told the person you knew nothing about them. Give a gift that was heartfelt and something that required thought and it meant you truly paid attention. Gifts could mean so many things from a simple 'thank you', to an 'I'm thinking of you' and at the same time were also very good at the occasional 'I'm sorry'. You could give a 'sorry' gift without ever having to actually verbalize the words. All those reasons actually did serve a purpose, at least in his life.

Earlier that afternoon, he snuck out for lunch and bought her a gift. He wasn't really sure why in light of the whole 'lesson learning' expedition they were on but he felt it was appropriate. He had told her he wanted to exclusively have sex with her so he supposed the he was officially, although begrudgingly, dating her. And, she was still a little pissy this morning, probably more about the Secret Santa thing, then anything at this point considering that she did go to Wilson to consult him as to what they should do. House figured that she must be over the embarrassment of Wilson knowing how she'd rocked his world three times the other night. At least, if he gave her a gift it might serve the 'I'm sorry' role and he wouldn't actually have to apologize for breaking one of the 'rules'; actually two of the rules because he'd brought up her test results. But, she said the 'L' word to get back at him so they were even on that one.

The gift was small, a token really, but he put thought into it and he was pretty sure she was going to like it. Now, they just had to wait and see if their patient was on the mend so they could actually go home sometime before Santa was supposed to arrive.

Taub entered the office with a peculiar look on his face. House paused in his tossing and leaning forward in his chair to put his feet on the floor.

"Donor bank turned up a 49 year old man in Cleveland who's a five out of six HLA match. First flight out of Cleveland leaves…" he said.

House cut him off. "Why is a 49 year old Cleveland man a closer match than her daughter?"

Taub gave him a patient look that told him there was more to the story. "He may not be. Maggie didn't let us test her."

House frowned at him curiously. "Why not?"

The little man shrugged. "Pain, danger, risk of…"

House sighed irritatedly. "Only reason to give multiple reasons is you're searching for what the person wants to hear." He stared out past Taub thinking for a reason as to what might be her motive to not test her daughter; because he was sure 'pain' was not the truth. A thought dawned on him, just as Thirteen entered the office with a look on her face that clearly displayed she had reached the end of her rope.

He swiveled his chair and put his weight on his cane to stand up. "You're wrong about sainted mommy," he said in her direction.

"Don't care. You can forget the donor bank, there's no CAII deficiency," she said blankly. "Best we can do is make her comfortable."

House stared at her. This was crappy news.

She sighed at him totally defeated. "Who's going to tell the patient that she's dying?"

His gaze lingered on her or a moment. She looked so tired. Sighing heavily, he looked back to Taub. "I will. And nobody leaves here until we find out what killed her." _So much for getting home before Santa._

He palmed two Vicodin into his mouth as he limped out of the office, Taub and Thirteen following him. They branched off into the pathology lab while he continued onto Maggie's room. Telling a patient they were dying was never easy; he was just so numb to it by now that it was second nature.

Sliding the glass door open, he entered the room and took a stool by her bedside. The thin woman turned her head to look at him expectantly even though she couldn't see him.

"Dr. Taub," she asked.

"No, it's Dr. House."

She took in a shuddering breath. "You're not here to tell me good news."

"No. I'm not," he began. "I'm here to tell you that you're dying."

"What? No," she stammered. "I can't be dying."

"Sure you can," he said holding his cane between his legs on the stool. It was some kind of lifeline, like a talisman to hold onto in the oncoming storm.

Maggie shook her head against her pillow. "You're wrong," she insisted, pushing down tears. "You don't even know what I have."

House sighed and spoke gently. "What you have, is one last Christmas with your daughter. One last chance to give her a present." The expression on her face changed to one of confusion after a resolute pause. "The truth. Inexpensive, highly valued, never have to stand in line to return it the day after Christmas."

"What are you talking about?" she questioned, bewildered as to why he was talking about Christmas present while she was dying.

"A mother who's going to die doesn't refuse a donor test because it might hurt," he said purposefully. "She refuses when she knows it won't match. Which tends to happen when mother and daughter _aren't_ mother and daughter."

Maggie breathed, staring blankly ahead of her as if she were looking through him.

"I could do DNA tests, if you'd rather keep lying to me," he declared.

Maggie shook her head, obviously conflicted over what to do. "I never wanted kids. I love them but with my genes…" she told him, finally letting the truth come. It was the one truth that she refused to tell; the one truth that he knew she was hiding all along. There was no way that some one could be so truthful about certain things if they weren't hiding something really big. "I knew this woman, a drug addict," she said licking her lips against the pain. "She got pregnant, didn't want to have an abortion. But she also didn't want her daughter to ever know who her real mother was. What she was. I promised never to tell."

House frowned. The bigger the lie, the more devoted they were to it. "A promise to an addict is worth more than a promise to your daughter?"

Maggie fought back tears. "It'd be cruel to tell her."

"Right." House shrugged. "She lives a lie, you get to die a hypocrite."

Jane came through the door hurriedly, just then, as Thirteen trailed behind her attempting unsuccessfully to stop her.

The little girl came to a standstill at the foot of her mother's bed. Her face was distraught with anger and confusion. "Mom… The doctors told me what's happening."

Maggie put on a confident face. "It's gonna be okay, sweetheart. I promise you," she lied. "Doctors can be wrong. There's still a chance I can be…"

Jane shook her head holding back tears of her own. "You really believe that?" she demanded.

House looked at Thirteen. She blinked her eyes at him helpless to stop the girl. Their eyes locked for a moment as they listened to the conversation happening before them, despite their presence in the room.

Maggie nodded her head earnestly, trying to be strong. "I do believe that sweetheart."

Jane shook her head vehemently even though her mother couldn't see her. "No, mom," she said forcefully. "You're dying." Her hands were fisted into tight balls by her side and her eyes flashed over with ice. "Nobody can help you. It's _not_ going to be _okay_!"

House sat immobile as he watched Jane swallow her emotions down like a hardened adult. His eyes flicked to Maggie and he witnessed her crumble as her daughter's cold, hard truth sank into her. He brought his eyes to check Thirteen who stood frozen in time, looking like she was about to cry.

Slowly, he rose from the stool and limped from away the bed on his cane. There was nothing left to say. Jane had striped her mother of all hope.

Immediately as they left the room, Thirteen fell into step beside him, her shoulder touching his for some kind of grounding connection to something real and familiar. "That was cold," she whispered softly to him in disbelief.

House nodded gravely and took in a breath. "Yeah." He had never before observed such bald and dispassionate truth. To come from a daughter to her dying mother, it was frightening and heart wrenching. And he didn't think he ever needed to bear witness to it again for as long as he lived.

They walked in silence down the corridor. Pushing the door open to his office, he turned to Thirteen who was standing numbly by his side. "Are you ok?"

She snapped out of her reverie and looked at him gently. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Where is everyone?" he asked unconsciously taking a step closer to her.

"In the lab," she answered looking up into his eyes.

"Good." He closed the distance between them bringing his hand to the side of her face as he touched his lips to hers in a searing kiss. He urgently teased her mouth open with the tip of his tongue, needing to feel her, all of her against him. Opening to him, she responded quickly to his touch moving her hands to his shoulders. She trailed her fingers along the edges of his jacket to the back of his neck where she pulled him closer into her velvety heat.

They kissed long and slow, savoring in every touch, their tongues dancing together, mingling in the sweetness of breath as they kissed. He didn't realize until his lips touched hers that he needed something to ground him as much as she did when she had touched her shoulder to his as they walked away from that scene of despair. Right here, right now, she was his tether, his tie to the reality that he knew where lies were lies born of necessity to protect and truth was a rare glimpse into a person's soul. When THirteen was with him, when she touched him, she was pure truth. That was a truth he understood. She had let him in the other night and he had witnessed her soul. It was a little scary to feel such openness but it drew him in and made him want to know more and more about this amazing woman in his arms.

He ended the kiss and he pulled back to gaze into her face. Slowly, she opened her eyes to him and a smile graced her lips, still moist and glistening from his kiss. "What are you doing tonight?" he asked her shyly.

Delicately, she frowned at him and played with the little hairs at the back of his neck. "Finding out what killed our patient."

He made a face and then smiled ruefully. "After that?"

"Are you asking me to come over?" she inquired coyly.

"Again, I ask, are you capable of answering a question?" he pondered in mild irritation. She may have be pure truth in her touch, but her excessive evasiveness about questions was somewhat bewitching.

She smirked at him and placed a light kiss on his lips. "Yes."

"Yes to what? The coming over or the answering questions?"

"Both," she stated with a chuckle.

His hands had slid to her waist underneath her lab coat and he ran his thumb over the soft skin under the hem of her shirt. Her skin was warm and silky to the touch and he couldn't wait to have it pressed up against him again. "Good, I'll see you at my place when you're done."

Prettily, she drew her eyebrows together in a frown and pouted. "You're going home right now?"

"Yup, benefits of being the boss," he said and placed a quick kiss on her full mouth.

She gave him a kittenish smile and wrinkled her nose at him. "Ok, have fun."

He blinked at her and nodded. _Have fun? She couldn't possibly mean without her?_ "Ok…"

He stepped out of her embrace and limped toward the door pushing down the odd feeling of not wanting to let her go.

Clasping her hands together in front of her, she smiled. "See you later."

He waggled his eyebrows at her and grinned. With that, he left the office to head out of the building. It was Christmas Eve. Santa had apparently come early for him…


	25. Chapter 25

The Gauntlet

Chapter 25

House stepped off the elevator and into the hospital's main lobby. Festive music caroled around the area all decorated merrily for Christmas. Nurses and doctors were chatting together as if there was no work to be done and no one dying beyond the four walls of the lobby. Everyone seemed blissfully ignorant of it all, too wrapped up in their own fabricated joy to notice. He frowned, ignoring them as he made his way over to the receptionist's desk to pick up any messages he might have. Wilson approached him, wearing a ridiculous looking reindeer hat.

"What did you get for Christmas?" he asked him sipping from a green cup of good cheer.

House looked at him seriously and drew his lips into a tight line. "Nothing. Not a single one of them participated in my Secret Santa. However, I got a girlfriend. And if that wasn't bad enough, my patient's dying."

Wilson stared at him perplexed for a moment. House continued to head outside and Wilson followed him in tow.

Wilson sighed. "A girlfriend and a dying patient… don't realty equate to one another on the scale of happiness… but, this is you were talking about." He shivered a bit from the chill in the cold December air. "So are you going home?" he asked with a lilt of curiosity in his voice.

Ignoring him, House stared into the inky black sky. "I saw something amazing."

Wilson looked at him, intrigued.

"Pure truth," he told him. "She told her mother that she was dying. Stripped her of all hope."

Wilson grimaced. "That sounds… horrible."

Hose nodded. "It's like watching some… bizarre astronomical event that you know you're never going to see again."

Wilson snorted unconvinced, that this was actually as moving of an experience as he was making it out to be. "You tell people the cold hard truth all the time. You get off on it."

House shook his head and shrugged. "That's because I don't care. _She cared_. She did it anyway." He frowned again. "She did it _because_ she cared."

Wilson nodded with a sarcastic smirk and spoke like he was narrating 'Twas the Night Before Christmas. "The angels of Christmas have finally given House a present he can appreciate."

Hose grunted in disgust. "Oh, don't ruin it. Don't pin this on Christ, " he scowled. "He's got enough nails in him." Narrowing his eyes, he looked at the preposterous hat on Wilson's head. "Why don't you take off that hat?"

"It's Christmas!" he objected in mock offence "It's a reindeer."

"It's a moose, on a Jew."

"Who cares?" he shrugged and sipped his drink as he tugged on an invisible string that made one of the reindeer's horns wave at House.

House rolled his eyes. "Things have their place. You wouldn't hang dreidels on a Christmas tree."

"You could," Wilson shrugged. "Things don't care."

House shrugged and thought about that for a moment. _Things don't care where you place them. You could put them anywhere even if the technically didn't belong there_… and then the proverbial light bulb went off in his head as he realized what was killing Liar Mom.

"No. Things don't," he declared. Turing back into the hospital, he limped to the elevator with a little bit of triumph and good cheer in his step.

"Happy Solstice, House."

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Remy checked the microscope again and sighed. At the rate they were never going to get out there. They had checked twelve different types of genetic disorders and ran her blood through a series of different scans. They were coming up with nothing. She was tired. She was frustrated and she just wanted to get House's apartment and sleep. He could do whatever he wanted with her while she was in a coma. She didn't care. She was exhausted.

All of a sudden she heard him. He was singing. Not really sure if her mind was conjuring this delusion because she was thinking about him, she tilted her head at Foreman. He had a curious scowl on his face. Apparently he heard it too. So did Taub and Kutner.

"_Go rest ye merry gentleman, let nothing you dismay, remember Christ our savior was born on Christmas day…_" House entered the lab in a victorious sweep of the arms as he threw open the double glass doors. Remy looked at him like he had gone mad. _What was he doing back there?_ He hadn't gone home. There wasn't enough time for that. _So this had nothing to do with is gift_. He came into the room and smiled briefly at her before turning to the others. "…_To save us all from Satan's power, when we were… gone… astray_." He stopped, bemused by their lack of reaction to his merry spirit. "Have you people no holiday spirit? Bring me the eggnog of good cheer!"

Foreman grumbled. "House, if you have something to say, say it. If you don't, give us a chance to get home before Santa."

House frowned at him for being a spoilsport on his good mood. "Scrooge," he name called. Turning to Remy, his eyes grew serious. "Give the patient Rispiradone."

Remy's eyes widened in confusion. _Rispiradone? He couldn't be serious…_

"That's an anti-psychotic," Taub stated flatly. "She's dying, she's not crazy."

House held up his finger in the air. "I am going to perform a Christmas miracle."

As curious as anyone, Remy got up from her stool and followed him as he sang his way out of the lab and down the hall to the patient's room.

Jane was in her with her mom when they arrived; both of them looked a little worse for the wear but then again they thought Maggie was dying. Kutner administered the medicine to Maggie while House explained what they were doing to her and why. They waited for about ten minutes for the medicine to take it's effect before he began to palpate around her body searching for only he knew what.

"You said all the causes of osteopetrosis are fatal," Maggie questioned.

"Except for the one we discounted early, because it was impossible," he explained working his fingers down the back and sides of her neck. "When fetus forms, it's just a mass of cells." He continued feeling her body, working down her shoulders. "Breast tissue covers extensive portions of the body. As the fetus develops, most of this tissue recedes, remaining only in the _fun places_." He wiggled hid eyebrows at her and Remy shook her head chuckling because he knew the patient couldn't see him. His hands continued down to her hip and onto her legs. "But sometimes, extra breast tissue is left behind in places where it doesn't belong. Rispiradone does a lot of things. One is, makes breast tissue swell so we can find it more easily."

"You're telling me I could have breast cancer?" Maggie surmised from what her was telling her. "Somewhere not in my breast? That doesn't make sense."

"Taub's parents have a winter condo in Florida. They're still New Yorkers," he said by way of a round about explanation.

"Actually, my parents…" Taub began.

"Don't care," House cut him off and Remy laughed. _He was such a pain in the ass_. "I told a parable. And now, I'm going to raise the dead…"

House turned Maggie's leg to the side and Remy could see that there was a swollen lump behind her knee.

He looked at her and held his hand out. "Give me that syringe."

Remy placed it in his hand and leaned in close to look at the protruding bump. "That's gotta be a fat deposit."

"Yes, I could be wrong," he said succinctly. "If I am, she's dead so shut up," he snarked with a teasing nod of his head. Remy rolled her eyes and chuckled to herself. She didn't want to be overly excited, because he was right, he could be wrong and she could still be dying on Christmas.

Remy watched House insert the needle into the lump and extract a white substance. Maggie cringed in discomfort and Jane echoed her expression as she watched.

"What's that?" Taub asked incredulously.

"Rispiradone also causes galacteria," the educational speech continued as he pulled out the needle.

"What's that? Galactic…?" Jane asked curiously.

House held up the syringe. "Open your mouth."

Remy stared at him like he'd lost his mind. Jane also stared at him in distrustful hesitation.

House rolled his eyes at her apprehension. "Relax, you've had it before."

"I am not…" House squirt some of the white substance into her mouth and everybody audibly groaned.

"Milk? Eww!" Jane exclaimed as she wiped her mouth and chin, disgusted.

"We'll cut out your mom's tumor and start her on chemo. All the rest of your symptoms should go away," he told them.

Maggie nodded, very much relieved. Jane smiled down at her and brushed her hand gently against her mother's cheek in a tender show of love and support.

Maggie grabbed her daughter's hand and pressed it close to her cheek. "I love you."

"I know," Jane responded.

Remy smiled and watched House, who was still amazed by the relationship these two had. They confounded him deeply because he didn't understand how two people could have such bare naked trust in each other. It was yet another anomaly; a puzzle that he couldn't work out. A part of her heart ached for him that he'd never experienced such a love or rather that maybe he had and that it had scarred him so deeply that he could never trust himself to feel that close to someone again. The truth was Remy had no idea about his life; she had no frame of reference because he never talked for real about himself. She knew he had difficulty with emotions and sentimentality. She knew he that he had trust issues. He was difficult and obstinate and hard to get close to but she cared for him. It mattered what he thought and how he felt. And right now this mother and daughter confused the hell out of him, so much so that he had to walk away.

"Have a wonderful life," he told them gruffly and walked out.

Remy placed her and on Maggie's leg. "Merry Christmas."

The woman thanked all of them and they left the room to give them some privacy.

"Wow, how does he come up with this shit," Kutner mused as they walked to the nurse's station to chart their orders into the file.

"It's what he does," Foreman said signing off on the order for surgery. "There's a party going on downstairs and some drinks are calling our names."

"I hear that," Taub said cheerfully for the first time that evening.

Remy smiled at all of them. "I'm tired. I think I'm going to call it a night."

All three of them looked at her and nodded. They all waked to the doctors' lounge to change.

"Hey, what do you think he's going to say when he gets home and finds his present?" Kutner asked.

"Who the hell knows," Foreman muttered.

"He's certainly not going to expect it," Remy said with a little smile. _Now, that was the understatement of the year._

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When Remy arrived at his apartment, her palms were sweating and she had butterflies in her stomach. She didn't know how he was going to react to their collected effort to best him at his own game.

Nervously, she entered the foyer and saw that his door was open. She cautiously stepped toward the opening and peeked around the molding to look inside. His back was to her. He still had his coat on and he was standing in front of his gift. Leaning against the door jam, she crossed her arms and watched him as he stepped towards it with care to remove the little card from the front.

She knew what it said, because she was the one to write it. "_Shhh, it's a secret. Quack! XOXOXO_."

He chuckled to himself and stepped closer still, tearing at the red Christmas paper with little ducks in Santa hats on it. When he finally revealed the flat screen TV, he stepped backward and sat down heavily on the coffee table in pure and utter shock. A little thrill of excitement charged through Remy as she watched him struggle with how they pulled this off. He was floored.

Stepping into the apartment, she closed the door behind her. He spun around at the sound. His face was tight with surprise at the intrusion but relaxed visibly when he saw that it was her. Braving a smile, she moved closer to him. He didn't get up from the table; he just sat there still as stone staring at the gleaming new television that resided now where his little old set used to be.

"Surprise," she said softly coming around the table to stand next to him. He looked at her and then back at the LCD screen.

"You guys… did… I," he began and then gave up stunned.

Remy chuckled and stepped in front of him between his legs. She placed her hands on his shoulders and smiled down at him. "Merry Christmas, House."

He blinked and shook his head. "How? _Why?_"

Taking in a breath she kneeled down, and wrapped her arms around his waist inside the heat of his coat. "Because we wanted to."

"But why?"

"Because we figured you wanted gifts since you put your name in the stocking five times," she said causing him to roll his eyes exaggeratedly on a groan.

"That's not why I did that," he groused in irritation.

"I know," she stated and then took a breath. "We were mad and we wanted to prove to you that the spirit of Christmas is about giving freely of your own will because you care about someone and because you want to do something nice."

"So you did this to be _nice_?" he queried, not really understanding.

"Yes, House, we decided to turn your game into doing something nice for you."

He shook his head. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"I know," she chuckled. "And that's how we got you back. Because it will bug you because it's irrational."

He slid his hands around her waist to her back and laid his flat palms against her spine. He tilted his head considering their motives for a second. "That's actually pretty good," he approved. "I'm starting to rub off on you."

She giggled and pressed her lips to his. "How about you rub against me instead?"

Dipping his tongue into her mouth, he chuckled, "I can rub you any way you want."

"Unless of course you'd rather try out your new present," she teased.

"Uh no," he pulled her closer. "I think I'd rather try out my new girlfriend present instead."

Thank God he kissed her passionately, because he would have heard Remy gasp in elated surprise at his admission to her being his girlfriend. It wasn't at all what she'd expected or intended out of this affair with him, but it was surely welcome. Merry Christmas to her. _Merry Christmas, indeed._


	26. Chapter 26

The Gauntlet

Chapter 26

House had told Thirteen she was his girlfriend. He wasn't sure how he got to this point. They were only supposed to be friends with benefits. No strings attached, right? So how did he get from fuck buddies to girlfriend in the matter of what, two days? He always had this problem with women. Either they were one-night stands or they were girlfriends that stayed around for like… five years. There seemed to be no in between with him. Casual just didn't seem to be in his vocabulary.

In his experience, he hardly did relationships at all. They were sticky and messy and required compromise which he was too selfish to agree to. He liked things his way and it was usually his way or the highway. Occasionally, however, he'd come across a woman whose highway seemed a little like the one he liked to drive on. The scenery was similar and it generally took them in the same direction. Those women were few and far between.

That was how it was with Stacey, his single most relevant relationship. They were like two halves of a whole. She was independent, fiercely competitive and extremely intelligent. She could stand up to him, go toe to toe with his sarcasm and best of all drink him under the table. She was bossy and pushy and she was in control of her life. She didn't need him, but she wanted him. They had met at a paint ball tournament where she shot him square in the chest without a care in the world. They went out for drinks afterward; she hated him right off the bat but he couldn't get her off his mind so he asked her out again. A week later she moved in and then five years passed in a blink of an eye. He was happy; he loved her and trusted her. But, in the end she betrayed him. She forced him in a life he never wanted and it left him bitter and alone. He couldn't get close to anyone since.

But, now here he was with another very different woman who was at the same time fiercely independent, extremely intelligent, could go blow for blow with his sarcasm and attitude. She didn't need him but she wanted him… exactly as he was. It boggled his mind. He was broken down, cranky, addicted to drugs and used to being a lone wolf without boundaries. He didn't share, didn't compromise and didn't like people. He had no idea what she saw in him yet, she was there, curled up along side him sleeping, exhausted from some of the best sex he'd had in his life.

He had said that he was struck dumb by her beauty, but the truth was that he liked her. He liked her spirit and her desire to do the right thing. She was fiercely driven for her patients not because she overtly cared but because she too was intrigued by the medicine and by doing what was best for the patient. She was protective of her private feelings and didn't wear her emotions on her sleeve. She confounded him and excited him and made him long for human contact in a way that he hadn't wanted or needed in a long, long time.

She nuzzled against the side of his neck and gently placed a kiss on his throat as she curled deeper into his embrace. The woman was like a cat. She purred when she was comfortable and could fit her body into the most awkward of spaces and make it feel like she belonged there. She had an instinct about her; she knew when to get close and when to back off. And those eyes. Feline and mysterious, they held all of the mysteries of her soul in the aqua grey depths that changed shades like the turning of the tides. When she looked at him, he felt like the only man on the planet. Yeah, he liked her. He liked her a lot.

"Whachya thinking about?" she murmured sleepily against his skin.

"Nothing," he lied, inhaling as he stretched his leg out to the side a bit.

She chuckled and pressed her lips to his skin again running her toes up the length of his other shin. "You want to know what I'm thinking about?"

"No."

Giggling, she nipped him lightly with her teeth. "Too bad. You're going to know anyway," she stated.

"But I don't really care," he teased.

"I beg to differ," she objected and leaned up on her elbow to look down at him. "I'm hungry. I want food."

He chuckled. "Oh. That I do care about."

"I thought you would," she said rested her head on his chest so she could still look up at him.

"Chinese food's the only place still open on Christmas Eve," he told her.

"Excellent," she said. "We can order a shit load of food and then have a little carpet picnic in front of your brand new TV."

_Sounded like a plan to him, except he had an addition and an amendment_. "I have a better idea. We could order a shit load of food, _have sex again before it comes _and then have a picnic _on the sofa_ in front of the new TV. Grumpy leg won't tolerate the floor."

Her musical laughter rained through his chest. "Sex too, in twenty minutes? You better work fast."

Spurred on by her challenged, he reached out to the nightstand for his cell phone and pressed the assigned button for Ming's Palace.

She stared at him in appalled amazement. "You have Chinese on speed dial?"

He made a face at her and shrugged as the woman answered on the other end. "Hi, place an order for delivery," he said and gave the phone number. As the woman checked her computer for his address, he vaguely thought about how surreal it was to be ordering Chinese food naked with a sexy woman draped over him who was drawing lazy circles on his chest with her finger. "Qt. of beef and broccoli, qt. of pork lo mein, qt. of Cantonese wontons in hot peanut sauce, two egg rolls…and…" he looked at her.

"And crab Rangoon," she added. He relayed her wishes and listened as the woman repeated the order back to him. Thirteen however, had a naughty streak come over her and snaked her hand down under the blanket to caress him to arousal before he was done with the woman on the phone. He took in a sharp breath and she giggled coyly against his ribs. He could barely focus on what the Asian woman was saying in her thick accent, but he didn't really care anymore. They could have sent him Peking duck and a box of white rice for all he cared because the way his partner in crime was stroking him he was losing all coherent thought. Distantly hearing the ubiquitous 'twenty minute' time frame, he clapped his phone shut and threw it somewhere onto the nightstand before sitting up to flip her over onto her back in one surprisingly swift and agile move.

Thirteen gasped in surprise as he kneeled over her and pinned her wrists back against the mattress with his hands. Her eyes darkened to a murky shade of pewter as her arousal flushed her delicate skin on her chest, hot and red with desire. She smiled flirtatiously at him as she bit her lip between her teeth excited anew about his dominance over her. Dipping his head, he slanted his mouth along the elegant column of her neck and she sighed in delight as he trailed his lips into the silky space between her breasts. He circled his tongue around one of her nipples working it to a perfect bud before moving on to pay the other one equal attention. She moaned under him writhing against him to free her hands so she could touch him as well, but he was enjoying being in control too much to let her have her way.

Taking her one hand, he brought it over her head so he could hold both of her arms with his one hand, freeing his other to exact more of this exquisite torture. He brushed her hair off of her forehead so he could see her eyes before he trailed his fingers down the side of her face to her mouth where he traced the delicate line of her lips. Her tongue darted out to lick at his middle finger before she took it into her mouth and suckled it, teasing him with her only available resource. His breath caught in his chest as he fought back the urge to plunge deep inside her as she taunted him with her amazing tongue. Instead, he pulled his finger from the silky recesses of her mouth and trailed the wet digit down the line of her neck continuing through the valley between her breasts and down the taut plain of her stomach until he met the forest of her hair where he found her cavernous liquid heat. He plunged his finger deep inside her, her folds burning him like lava as she cried out in pleasure.

House lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her with an abandon that fueled the flames of both of their desire. Mingling her tongue with his, she moaned from deep within as she melted underneath him like liquid cream in the hot sun. He was amazed every time he kissed her how intensely and openly she responded to him. She was so pliant to his touch, so harmoniously responsive that it made him crave her even more.

Letting go of her hand, he moved over her to grab a condom. Her hands free, she let them roam all over his body, feeling and kneading his muscles in her urgency. Her touch nearly sent him over the edge of sanity as he tried to prepare himself as quickly as his shaking hands would let him. After what felt like an eternity away from her, he finished and came back to kiss her again renewing his passion for her. She reached her hand between their bodies and guided him into her, losing her patience for pretense and foreplay. In one swift move, he was deep inside her. Her finger nails cut into his back as she pulled him closer wrapping her beautifully long legs around him taking him further into her core. It was an exquisite pain as she drew a small amount blood while his leg throbbed from bearing his weight over her. He didn't care; the way she felt around him outshined any wretched feeling of pain.

He moved in a slow, steady rhythm drawing out their desire, wanting to make it last. She kissed him urgently, panting out little cries of pleasure as she matched him stroke for stroke. Soon their movements became fervent as the waves of ecstasy crested and took them into the blissful release.

"Oh God, House!" she screamed as she gripped onto him riding out the pulse of her climax pulling him down tumbling into his own. He growled from deep within his chest at the peak of his release feeling his entire body lose control as he poured into her protected by the thin barrier between them.

They lay there joined for a few long moments breathing in each other. He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. She felt good. Too good. Yeah, he liked this woman. He liked her a whole lot. House was a selfish man. If not sharing her with anyone meant that she was his girlfriend, exclusively for however long it lasted, then so be it because fro the first time in a very, very long time, he was feeling good.

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_A/N: I know! I didn't post yesterday. I am terribly sorry! I was trying desperately to get this out to meet my own crazy deadline of posting every day, but, alas it just wasn't happening. It's getting complicated and we're startling to delve into his feelings for her and that requires some planning, we don't want him to fall too fast even though he is! He just can't realize it yet. And her… well, she never wanted this either so she's in a little denial too. Someone had asked for this to continue for a while and I think it will. I think the next chapter will set up a story arc that will take a while to explore which will forge a bond between them that they can't deny. I, however, will be in vacation starting Thursday and will be unable to post for a week and a half. OH NO!!!! I know! It's going to kill me not to be able to write and deliver it to you guys. But, I suppose I am actually going to have to make the family take precedence for change. LOL! Enjoy!_


	27. Chapter 27

The Gauntlet

Chapter 27

Remy picked up a wonton from her plate with her chopsticks and shoved it in her mouth chewing it on a laugh. He was telling her about a prior Christmas Eve when Wilson was in the middle of one of his divorces and they took a trip to Las Vegas.

"Then German guy gets all pissed off because Wilson just hit 21 for the third time and he throws his cards down and says, 'You must be the luckiest asshole I ever met. You come with me'," House continued, chuckling as he told his account. "Now, I'm like 'no thanks, we're fine'. I'm thinking he's going to take us out back and kill us because the dude was biggest man I've ever seen in my life. And Wilson's just this little drunk Jew. So Wilson says 'Ok'. And I'm like great, now I have to go watch him get pummeled to death buy the guy from Die Hard, only way fucking bigger." He took a bite of his lo mein and chuckled to himself.

Remy sipped her beer, intently listening to him spin his insane yarn. His eyes were alight with amusement and he was smiling from ear to ear. She couldn't help but laugh along with him even though she had no idea what he was laughing about. It was just nice to see him so animated about something that wasn't an annoying practical joke on her and the team.

"So the huge guy takes us to the elevator and I'm like 'Whoa, dude we just want to play cards' and he turns to me and tells me to shut up and that he has business with my friend," he recounted.

"What did you do," Remy asked curiously wondering how they got out of this weird situation because obviously they were both still very alive.

"I shut up," he replied. "His hands were the size of my head. The guy was seven feet tall, what could I do?" He chuckled and then cleared his throat. "So the elevator keeps going and going and going and I notice we're going all the way to the penthouse suit. And I'm thinking 'what the fuck? At least, we're going to die in Heffner's suite. Things could be worse," he paused in his tale and took a sip of his beer for dramatic effect. "The doors open," he explained slowly drawing out the saga. "There's this rocking party going on. Naked girls and drinks everywhere. So now I'm thinking maybe he hit me so hard I didn't even know it and died and went to Heaven."

Remy laughed out loud, "Yeah, because Heaven's full of naked women and drinks as far as the eye can see," she said sarcastically popping another wonton into her mouth.

"Hey, if there is anything remotely close to heaven, that's surely what it'll be," he argued and took a sip of his beer. Remy chuckled and urged him to continue by circling her chopsticks.

"Wilson, is so drunk he's forgotten his name by now, and we're moving through this party. There's some chick lying on this table all lit up in blue lights with sushi on her stomach like she was the plate." Remy raised her eyebrows. "Best sushi I've had outside of Japan," he grinned.

"You've been to Japan?" she asked in surprise.

"I lived there but that's a whole other story," he told her moving quickly back to his account. "He takes us through the crowd and it just parts like the Red Sea and there's a half court basketball court in the middle of this gianormous suit. There are cheerleaders with pompoms in the tightest little uniforms, so sweet…" he mused and she rolled her eyes at him. "And then it hits me, I know who this fucking giant is. It's Dirk Nowitzki the huge white dude from the Dallas Mavericks."

"Get the fuck out of here!" she exclaimed. "No way?"

"Yah way, Wilson beat Dirk Nowitzki at blackjack and instead of killing us he invited us up to his suit to play some more," House reminisced. "I played Texas Hold 'em with Steve Nash and Michael Finley and won $8000 while Wilson and Dirk got shitfaced drunk in the corner commiserating about their failed relationships. It was beautiful."

Remy laughed. "You won $8000 from Steven Nash? Unbelievable."

"Oh believe it baby, because it happened," he said finishing his lo mein shoveling the bits of noodles off of his plate into his mouth.

"That's crazy. And this was Christmas Eve?"

"Uh huh," he nodded. "Best Christmas Eve of my life."

Remy grinned at him and placed her empty plate onto the coffee table. She fell back against the cushions, stuffed. "I don't have any Christmas Eve stories, I have New Year's Eve college stories full of debauchery but no Christmas ones."

He chuckled and put his plate down on top of hers arranging the chopsticks together in a row. "That was my only Christmas story. The rest of them are pretty pathetic," he said leaning back against the cushions rolling his head to the side to look at her.

"Well, I'm glad I'm here instead," she said and then left it at that without saying the 'being alone' part. She didn't want him to think she was needy because she wasn't. It was just nice to not be alone on a holiday when people were supposed to come together.

"That reminds me," he sat up suddenly, "I got you a present."

Remy looked at him in shock. "You did?"

"Yeah," he said shyly getting up to move over to where his coat was. Remy watch him hobble back in his baggy pajama pants and red t-shirt in the spirit of the evening. He had a reserved look on his face as he sat down and handed her the present.

She took the gold box tied with a red ribbon and arched her eyebrow curiously at him. "You got me an iPod," she remarked saucily, make reference to the gag gift he gave himself in this very same box.

"Don't be a smart ass," he griped. "I recycled, ok."

She chuckled at his discomfort thinking it was sweet how inept he was about these sorts of things. Shaking the box, she listened to see what was inside

"Just open the damn box," he barked at her and she bit back a laugh.

Pulling the ribbon, she untied the binding and opened the lid. He even used the same cloth that he had the phone wrapped in but there was something much smaller inside. It was smooth to the touch as she held it underneath the fabric covering. Carefully, she pulled out the small object and unfolded the cloth to reveal a beautiful key chain made of a large circle stone of rose quartz topped with silver Celtic filigree. She looked at him expectantly, stunned that he had gotten her something so personal. Rose quartz was her favorite stone.

"House, it's beautiful," she said holding it up to look closely at it. There was a key on it. _Oh my God… _"Is this…"

He inhaled a breath and nodded. "Yeah."

Remy was bowled over. She didn't know what to say. "House…"

"It's just a key, so I don't have to get up and answer the door," he muttered rubbing his hand over the back of his head.

Touched by his willingness to literally let her in, she rose to her knees and inched closer to him as she wrapped her arms around his neck still holding onto her keychain. She pressed a kiss to his temple. "Thank you."

"It's not a big deal," he griped pulling his head away from her.

"Whatever," she said with a chuckle and fell back against the cushions onto her back. Contentedly, she clasped her treasure in her hand to her heart and shoved his hip with her toe. "You know, rose quartz symbolizes love and fidelity."

House bust out laughing. "You're full of shit."

Laughing, she shoved him again. "No, I'm not. It's true."

He grabbed her foot and tugged on her toe making it crack. Yelping, she tried to pull her foot away from him but her wouldn't let it go. "It's a pink stone," he said blandly. "You have a necklace with one just like it."

"Yes, I do," she said.

"You like pink," he stated. _She was tickled that he'd paid attention_…

"Yes, pink is my favorite color," she repeated.

"So, it's a pink stone in a key chain," he said.

"And I love it," she announced.

"Ah," he warned flicking her toe. "No 'L' word."

Remy giggled watching him intently. "I didn't mean you. I mean it about my present."

"Whatever," he shrugged. "Still the 'L' word."

Rolling off the couch, she decided to take the food into the kitchen and clean up. Content that he didn't have to do any work, he grabbed the remote with the big red bow on it and removed it before turning on his very own Christmas present.

"House, where is the dish soap?" she called as she searched around the sink area, looking to just rinse the plates off.

"Just leave it, I'll take care of it tomorrow," he said. "Oh my God! I can see the botoxed wrinkles in Catherine Willow's face! This is fucking amazing!"

Remy chuckled and ran water over the plates instead, setting them in the sink for him to do tomorrow. Excitedly, she bounced back into the living room and hopped onto the sofa next to him. He lay back resting his head against the arm and stretched his legs out tugging on her arm to pull her down with him. There wasn't a whole lot of room with the two of them lying down so she curled up along side him between his torso and the cushions draping her leg carefully over his bad one so she could see the TV. He shifted a little to adjust to her and wrapped his arm around her as she placed her head nestled against his chest. His other arm hung off to the side holding the remote.

"CSI or a movie?" he asked, beginning to flip through the channels before she could answer.

"Movie's good," she laughed, melting into his heat. "If we don't find anything then we could always go back to CSI. It said marathon in the corner."

He surfed through the channels at lightening speed and Remy tried to play a game with herself to see if she could identify what was on in the millisecond it showed on the screen. _It's a Wonderful Life_ on two channels, _The Christmas Story_, _Elf_, News, _Sportcenter_, _Bad Boys_ with Will Smith, some _Lifetime_ Christmas movie with the chick from _Touched by and Angel_. Charlize Theron, Denzel Washington, The anorexic mouseketeer, Some old guy in black and white. _The Bucket List_… he stopped and lingered there for a moment.

"We saw this already." Remy frowned and slipped her hand under the edge of his t-shirt to touch the warm skin on his stomach.

"It's been on five times since we saw it," he murmured.

Remy smiled against the soft cotton of his t-shirt. _He liked this movie_. "We can watch it again."

He placed the controller on the coffee table and brought his hand to lift hers out of his shirt so he could lace his fingers with hers. Remy felt a serene sense of contentment as she lay there in his arms. She didn't look to far into it, however. They were two people, alone on Christmas Eve. It was just another day and they were keeping each other company until the world went back to its regular state. He had said she was his girlfriend, so that made him her boyfriend. He gave her a key and she gave him a TV with the three other guys they worked with and his best friend. It had no meaning other than to irk him, but he loved it and that made her happy. Happy was good for a change.

They watched the movie in silence gently petting each other, enjoying the comfort of one another, as they lay tangled like a lover's knot. He was so quiet that Remy had thought he had fallen asleep, when he said, "You should make a bucket list."

"What? Why?" she asked a little surprised.

"Because…" he said and trailed off leaving the rest of his meaning dangling in the air.

Remy sighed and lifted her cheek repositioning her head to get the wrinkle of his shirt off her face. "I don't need a bucket list."

"So you've done everything you want to do before you die?"

"No, but… Who ever does?"

"Some people. People who know they're going to die."

"I don't need a bucket list," she stated with finality.

But, he was not getting her point. "What about all of those things you said to me that you wanted to do? Take flying lessons, climb Mt. Kilimanjaro? Have you done those?"

Propping herself up on her elbow, she looked at him seriously. "I was being facetious because you pissed me off. I didn't mean I really wanted to do those things."

"Ok, maybe not those things, but there's got to be stuff you've wanted to do before you kick the bucket," he pressed stubbornly.

Remy shrugged and shook her head. "Maybe, I don't know. I don't think about it. Because I told you, I don't want to know."

His blue eyes stared at her intently. "I'm not saying to test yourself and find out. I'm saying that there are things that everyone wants to do in their life before they die, whether it's tomorrow or fifty years from now. Everyone should have a bucket list."

Remy grunted in surprise at his philosophical view on this. "Oh yeah? And what's on your bucket list?"

"I don't have one," he said.

"Well, if everyone's supposed to have one what about you? You're dying too," she insisted.

He shook his head. "I don't need one. I've been around the world, I've seen lots of things."

"So you could die tomorrow and you would be content that you've done everything you've ever wanted to do?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "No but I…"

"But nothing, " she cut him off. "You can't tell me that I need a bucket list because 'everyone should have one' and then use the disclaimer that you don't need one because you've 'seen and done things'. You're being a hypocrite again."

"And you're living in denial again," he shot back.

"Then call me Cleopatra," she snarked and made a face at him.

He laughed and his chest rumbled underneath her. Lifting his hand, he brushed her hair back out of her face and smiled at her. Remy felt the corners of her mouth giving way to a smile. She looked into his eyes and got lost in their depths. God, he was such a pain in the ass and he annoyed the shit out of her but he was so fucking sexy it drove her insane.

His eyes searched her and he sighed. "Just think about it, ok?"

"Maybe."

"_Maybe_…" he mocked her and chuckled, pushing her head back down onto his chest.

Remy giggled and settled back into his embrace content to just be with him. She couldn't help but wonder why he cared but didn't really want to dwell on the why. She brought her focus back to the movie and eventually her eyelids drifted closed, lulled into a comfortable sleep by the steady even rhythm of his breathing.

_Damn it, she missed the end of the movie again._


	28. Chapter 28

The Gauntlet

Chapter 28

_A/N: I'm back kids! Who said traveling with the family is a vacation?! No, just kidding. Had a great time and am now back to the rest of my summer vaca before having to return to the life of a teacher. One month to go before September 1__st__. GAH!!! Anywho, I had started this chapter before I left and my little muses have been elusive and took a vacation themselves. I miss them and need to get back in touch. _

_In this chapter we finally meet Teddy. At the risk of ruining the surprise I must tell you that I have cast the ever fabulous Maggie Gyllenhaall as Remy's snarky best friend. She adds the perfect amount of crusty, loveable compassion which hmmmm, sounds ironically like someone else we all know and love. So without further ado…. Enjoy!_

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Remy woke up around 9:00AM and decided that it was best if she went home to shower and change before going to Teddy's for Christmas dinner. House was still asleep when she came back from the bathroom having rolled back over to his side of the bed. He was hugging a pillow under his head and he looked so content that she hated to wake him just to say goodbye. She didn't want to leave without doing so, so she walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down.

Running her and over his shoulder, she leaned in and kissed him on his scruffy cheek. "Hey."

Blue eyes opened suddenly with a look of momentary confusion before settling into irritation. "What are you doing? Come back to bed."

"I have to go," she said gently, adding a smile.

"No you don't," he grumbled and closed his eyes. "Take those clothes off and come back to bed."

She sighed and ran her hand up and down his arm. "House, I have to go."

This time he opened his eyes, aggravated and rolled onto his back a little so he could see her. "Why?"

"I promised Teddy I would come for Christmas dinner," she told him.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at the old clock on his nightstand. "It's 9:15."

"I know," she said patiently. "Dinner's at 1:00."

He cocked his head. "Again. It's 9:15. And that's not dinner. That's lunch."

Remy shook her head holding back a smirk at his disgruntled attitude. "I have some things to do before I go."

"Fine," he grunted and rolled back jamming his face in the pillow.

Teasingly, she leaned over his ear and rubbed it with her nose. "You could come with me."

"Uh, let me see. No," he said in a clipped and dry tone.

"Aww, come on," she teased. "You could meet Teddy. It could be fun." _God, she lied like a rug_. He and Teddy would hate each other. That was fact. Because they were exactly the same.

"Christmas dinner with your other fuck buddy? I'd rather shove glass in my eyes and listen to Wilson wax philosophical about the possibility for peace in the MidEast."

Remy laughed and then pushed out a mock pout. "Are you sulking? Oh my God, you're such a baby."

"I'm not sulking," he grumbled and closed his eyes.

"Just come with me," she said tickling the back of his ear with her finger. It was so funny that he was jealous over a situation he really had no idea about.

He opened his eyes again and sighed with measured patience. "Seriously. No. I don't do Christmas."

Knowing she reached the end of her line, she nodded and kissed him. "Ok. I can come back later if you want?"

He shrugged. "You can do whatever you want. Come. Don't come. Doesn't matter to me."

Remy eyed him. He had that bored, nonchalant tone that he thought eradicated all traces of feeling about something but what it really told was just how much he actually did care. "Will you be here if I come?"

"Text me because I might be out boozing it up with the strippers from the Show Palace," he snarked.

Remy snapped her fingers in an 'aw shucks' move. "Damn, and I was gonna work there tonight, too," she joked.

"You can give me a lap dance and strip for me right here," he said, getting that twinkle in his eye she was beginning to recognize all to well.

"I can give you more than a lap dance," she said leaning down to hover just over his mouth with her lips. "And you don't even have to pay me."

"What are you waiting for?" He inched his mouth closer and she back away taunting him. He gave her a disgruntled sigh. Pulling back completely on a laugh, she stood up from the bed. "I'm waiting for later when I come back."

His eyebrows drew together and he swallowed. "What?"

"I told you I have to go," she reminded him.

"Aw come on. That's not right," he whined. "Now I've gotta rub one out on Christmas?"

Remy tilted her head coyly, "Well, you could give yourself a present or you could wait for me… or both, but that's up to you. I'll use my key to let myself in," she toyed, moving to the door, "You know the one, on my new 'love and fidelity' keychain?" She dangled it up from her fingers so he could see before slipping out of the room.

"Stop using the 'L' word," he hollered followed by a flying pillow. "It's just a shinny pink rock for crying out loud!"

"Good-bye, House," she giggled slipping out of the door.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Remy brought the last of the china into the kitchen of Teddy's loft. She always loved Teddy's cooking. It was the closest thing to home she could remember and it was always so damn good. She didn't know why her best friend never opened a business for herself. Instead she was content to sous chef for others, albeit in some of the best restaurants in Philadelphia and New York over the years, but never on her own. Remy supposed it was because with Teddy's temperament, she'd never get people to work for her long enough to actually get a restaurant off the ground.

Remy loved Teddy more than anyone in the world. She was her family, the only one who knew the real her. They had been friends since kindergarten, since the day that Craig Witherspoon threw a rock at Remy giving her the faint scar she still bore on her cheek. The old adage of 'it's all fun and games until someone loses and eye' was like a mantra for them. In a heroic act of defense, Teddy chucked a bigger rock, knocked him down and then pummeled the kid until he was bloody and cried for his mommy. She was tough as nails, even at five, and was always there for Remy, through everything with her mother, everything with her father and all of the stupid inane things they'd done to get over the heartbreak. She was her rock.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Tink," Teddy railed at her, pouring in the liquid dish soap into the sink like she was doing the laundry instead of fine china.

Remy stacked the plates and listened to the onslaught. "I know, I tried. I told you he wouldn't come."

"What? Is he too good to come to my house for dinner?" she questioned taking the brush to scrape food off the plates.

"Actually, he's antisocial," Remy explained with a smirk on her face.

"Antisocial? What exactly does that mean?" she griped, her messy brown curls bouncing as she vigorously scrubbed at the dishes.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Remy said. "He doesn't like people."

"How does a doctor not like people?"

"He likes the puzzle, the mystery of the disease," Remy explained handing her another dish.

Teddy waved a soapy hand in the air, bubbles flying everywhere. Remy had to wipe some off her forehead. "Whatever, don't care." Teddy dismissed, "What I care about is why you're here alone when he's now supposed to be your boyfriend."

"Because it's not like that," Remy said lamely, knowing that Teddy wouldn't let this go.

"I tell you what it's like," Teddy stated slapping the sponge down into the water with a splash. "He's fucking you and getting all of the benefits of a relationship without actually having to put up with the relationship shit. What guy wouldn't want that kind of deal?"

Remy rolled her eyes and picked at the praline on the pecan pie waiting on the counter behind her. "It's how it started. It's how it was supposed to be," Remy told her licking her fingers.

"Stop eating that," Teddy admonished sharply. "Right, you were fuck buddies and now all of a sudden you're in an exclusive relationship/non-relationship. What happened?"

"He got jealous," Remy sighed.

"Of who? Get out the coffee," she ordered gruffly before placing the dishes into the dishwasher beside them.

Remy turned to the cabinet behind her and pulled out the bag of gourmet coffee grinds. She started to laugh. "Of you…"

"What? That's retarded," Teddy exclaimed incredulously. "Why the fuck would he be jealous of me?"

Remy shook her head continuing to laugh as she started fixing the coffee. "I might have let him think you were a guy."

"What? Rem, I mean I'm a bitch but, really, a guy?"

Remy chuckled. "Yeah, we were in the middle of an argument about… don't look at me like that… it was about a patient, and you called and I sent you to voice mail…"

"Like you always do lately," she added pointedly.

"My job is demanding, I can't help it," she told her averting her eyes from the inevitable condescension.

"No your boss is a demanding prick and you're fucking him…"

Remy sighed. "Whatever, do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Fine… go on…" Teddy rolled her eyes and tossed the silverware into the basket.

"So anyway, I said your name and he assumed you were a guy and then he got all weird and asked if we were 'friends with benefits' too?"

Teddy guffawed loudly. "Tink, even in my wildest days, you'd be the last person I'd bang,"

"I know," Remy smiled, "but I went with it because I couldn't believe he was actually showing some kind of emotion about something."

"This guy sounds like a peach," her friend muttered.

"Then he tells me that he doesn't want me having sex with anyone else while I'm with him."

"Oh that's romantic, I think my heart might burst." Remy rolled her eyes at her and shrugged. It was sort of romantic in his own House-way. Finishing with the dishes, Teddy closed the dishwasher and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the upper cabinet over the stove. "Come on, I need a smoke." She pulled her to the large window at the back of the kitchen and jammed a cigarette in her mouth before hoisting open the heavy pane that led to the fire escape. They leaned out onto the sill and she lit the end taking in a huge, soulful drag.

"I thought you were quitting," Remy said inhaling the familiar scent of freshly lit tobacco. She was never a serious smoker herself but it was an oddly comforting aroma that she always associated with her best friend.

"I did. If Steven sees me, he's gonna shit. His mother was just diagnosed with lung cancer."

Remy frowned. "I know a good oncologist," she offered.

Teddy shrugged. "Maybe." She puffed out a lungful of smoke. "Back to your bastard boyfriend…"

"He gave me a Christmas present," she had hopefully.

Teddy eyed her suspiciously. "And?"

"It was a key to his apartment on a really pretty keychain," she told her.

"Are you shitting me?" She snorted in laughter. "He gave you a key so he doesn't have to get his lazy ass up to answer the door when you come over to fuck him."

"His leg Teddy, he can't…"

"Yeah, yeah… grumpy, antisocial cripple I get it," she waved her cigarette in the air. Remy shivered in the cold as her own breath made a cloud when she exhaled. "Tink, I just don't want him to use you."

"He's not using me," Remy said. "I think that somewhere inside, he really likes me."

"And how can you be sure?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. So far his actions have spoken louder than his word, so…"

"Right… and is he going to test you again without your consent? Is that the kind of action you think means he gives a shit?"

Remy looked at her. "No, I don't think he will. He knows how much that upset me."

"You hope he won't do it again," she stated.

Remy stared out onto the sidewalk below. It was something that concerned her. House did what he wanted because he could and he didn't care about the fallout. But, he seemed legitimately remorseful about breeching her privacy after she'd confronted him. He told her he didn't look at the results. He had had them in his hand and he resisted the urge to discover the answer. That was big. And it gave Remy a little bit of hope.

"He wants me to make a bucket list," Remy told her.

"What, like that corny movie," Teddy scoffed.

"It was a good movie," Remy said a little defensively.

Teddy shrugged. "So are you going to?"

"No."

Teddy glanced at her for a moment. "Why not? I mean, it's gay, but why not?"

"Because… I don't know." Remy shook her head and watched an older woman in a long coat trudge up a staircase alone with a shopping bag from the liquor store on the corner. She was alone and sad looking. But she was mobile. If Remy was indeed sick, she'd never see that age.

"You have no good reason not to," Teddy said.

"Wait a minute just so I get this straight," Remy said giving Teddy a sidelong glance. "You're agreeing with House?"

"No, no," she wagged her finger at her as she took a drag on her cigarette. "I agree with the _idea_, not him."

"Oh…Yeah, that's so much different." Remy snorted.

"Whatever, so you make a list of things you want to do, what's the harm in that?"

"It's pointless. It's not like I can really do anything of those things right now, " she said. "My job takes up all my time…"

"That's a lame excuse," Teddy griped. "You're afraid to commit something in black and white because then it makes it real and if you don't get to do those things then it means you've failed."

"That's not true," Remy objected.

"Yes, it is," Teddy said. "Because what if you die before your list is finished?"

Remy sighed. "I'm thirty. My mother was thirty-two when she first exhibited symptoms."

"Please, don't remind me how old I am," Teddy griped. "The whole point is to be able to do those things before you can't do them anymore, whether you're dying or not."

"I guess," Remy shrugged. That was exactly what House said. Remy shook her head. Like he was such the expert on how to live? When was the last time he actually stepped out of his little safety net of misery and took a chance on life? Remy chuckled to herself. It was when he stood before her in his office and told her to bring a change of clothes. That was a huge chance. Uncharacteristic and yet, it paid off for him. And her, as well.

Steven poked his head in from the swing door at that moment interrupting their conversation. "You guys bringing in the pie soon?"

Teddy dropped the cigarette to the sidewalk below. "Just a minute, keep your pants on, will ya?"

"You better not be smoking," he warned. His blonde eyebrows furrowing as he caught them leaning out of the window.

Teddy leaned back into the kitchen. "We're just getting some air, with all those wind bags in there I'm light headed from all the hot air."

"Pie, coffee… sometime before my 85 year old grandma dies ok?" he grumbled.

"Yes, dear," she flashed a demure smile and then sagged and rolled her eyes. "Hopefully that be any minute now…" she muttered shutting the window.

"Teddy!" Remy scoffed.

"Please, that evil old bitch gave me a gift certificate to Aldo's and told me it was the best food she'd ever tasted, as if mine was swill," Teddy pushed off the counter and whipped off her apron. "I wouldn't set foot in that rat trap if you paid me and believe me, Aldo tried, but I told him to take his job offer and shove it."

Remy crossed her arms and stared at her friend. "If I'm supposed to make a bucket list, shouldn't you open a restaurant of your own sometime before you die?"

Teddy stared at her blankly for a long moment. Something passed over her face that Remy recognized as fear but it was gone as quickly as it came. She laughed to cover up her brief display of emotion. "Tink, I've worked for some of the best chef's in the business. I'm happy with where I am."

"Maybe," Remy said. "But maybe you're afraid to fail just as much as the rest of us."

Teddy inhaled a breath and set her jaw firmly. "Make your list and do some of the things on it and then get back to me."

Remy shook her head and watched her friend gather the pie before backing out of the swinging kitchen door into the throng of guests awaiting dessert. She sighed heavily and knew that Teddy was exactly the reason why she understood House so much.


	29. Chapter 29

The Gauntlet

Chapter 29

Remy took her key out of her purse before she stepped into the foyer of House's apartment building. The smooth stone felt cold against her palm from the chill in the air but the warmth it generated in her heart made her smile. It was simple and it was sweet and it held a meaning that was far greater than the one Teddy had placed on it. It was a big step. He knew it and she knew it and she cherished the knowledge of it because it was definitely a big deal.

Entering the hallway fully, she heard piano music float dully through the door to his apartment. Momentarily surprised, she paused for a second to just listen. She knew if she opened the door he would stop and she wanted to hear him play because she had never had the chance before. He was playing a jazzy, soulful version of _Winter Wonderland_. It swung and crescendoed, swelling like a gentle tide as it came and went in its rhythm. Remy closed her eyes and placed her hand on the wood of the door letting the strains of music wash over her. It was beautiful.

He was really good, though she shouldn't be surprised; he was good at everything he did. Remy suspected there was very little that Greg House did that he didn't excel at. He certainly played her like a piano and that thought made her grin deeply.

The song ended and he paused for a silent moment before moving on to another song she didn't recognize. Taking her opportunity, Remy slipped her gifted key inside the lock and let herself in. The music was much louder and clearer now that the door was open and she was correct in her assumption. He stopped immediately and looked up at her from across the room.

Smiling at him as she closed the door, she placed her overnight bag on the floor and held onto the bag of leftovers she brought him in her other hand. "Don't stop on account of me."

He lifted the corner of his mouth into a shy smirk and reached for the glass of amber liquid on the top of his piano. "You're back early."

"It's after eight," she said with a confused smile, wondering when he'd expected her since she texted him as soon as she left Teddy's loft. Coming over to the piano, she held up the bag for him to see. "I come bearing food."

He raised an eyebrow at her and nodded. It might have been appreciation, but she wasn't sure. She moved closer to kiss him 'hello' but he became jumpy as the bag of food swung too close to the shinny black surface of the piano. "Away from the piano," he warned, getting up slowly and holding his hands out to guard his prized possession.

Remy chuckled at his protectiveness. "Sorry," she acknowledged stepping away from the instrument and onto the carpet of the living room.

House limped over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her in close for a kiss. Her hand came to his chest feeling the heat of his skin through his shirts as she swayed effortlessly into his embrace, mindful of the bag containing his dinner that she still held. It didn't take long for her pulse to speed up from his touch. He smelled of expensive bourbon and his eyes were glassy as he lazily looked down into her face, a small hidden smile teasing at his lips. She could tell he was drunk but she let him kiss her anyway, parting her lips instinctively as he dipped his tongue in to languidly mingle with hers. She could taste the alcohol on his breath and she could swear her head began to spin as he kissed her slowly and deeply, intoxicating her with his inebriated fervor. His fingers, that so easily traveled over the ivory keys of the piano, pressed firmly into her back teasing her skin under the hem of her thin sweater. His touch was amazing, so simple, so plain but so raw. Yes, indeed, he was good at everything he did even when he was drunk.

Ending their kiss, he tore his lips away from her leaving her breathless and wanting more. It took Remy a moment to open her eyes to see him staring down at her triumphantly. He was pleased with himself for making her knees weak. Tapping her ass with a laugh, he stepped out of the circle of her arms and smiled. "You said you brought food?"

Remy's head spun as she licked her lips savoring the essence of him and nodded, realizing what he had just said. _Goddamn, he was distracting_. "Are you hungry?"

"You could say that," he murmured and then laughed. "Could you put on a little French Maid's outfit and serve it to me? Better yet, could you do it naked?"

Regaining her composure, Remy scoffed. "Uh, no, but I can heat it up for you and give you a fork."

"Alright," he laughed. "I can live with that."

"Good, 'cause that's all you're gonna get," she chuckled stepping away from him to go into the kitchen. Watching him from the corner of her eye, he moved to sit on the couch and turned on the TV. There was a twinkling of mirth in his eyes and Remy felt glad that she had returned to spend the night with him because he was evidently feeling good that she was there too.

"So what's on the menu? Dried out turkey with some instant mashed potatoes?" he called to her as she popped the lid on the container before putting it in the microwave.

"Gah! Never speak such blasphemy, Teddy's a world-class chef at La Berge," Remy replied proudly. "You're having roast goose in a plum wine reduction with sage stuffing and green beans almandine."

"Well, my, my…how fancy…" he muttered not so quietly. She watched him make a disgruntled face out of the corner of her eye and she bit her lip to stifle a chuckle at the lines of jealousy etched in his face. She wondered briefly if she should let him off the hook and tell him he had nothing to worry about with Teddy but it was kind of fun to see him try to suppress this rampant and irrational jealousy. They've only been together for less than a week and he was already possessive and territorial. It was so uncharacteristic. But cute nonetheless.

The microwave dinged and she carefully pulled out the hot container. Deciding not to feed him from the plastic Tupperware, she pulled out a plate and arranged the food neatly. _Presentation counts_, she heard Teddy echo coarsely in her head. Not that he would really give a shit, but it was Christmas after all. A ceramic plate was in order. Grabbing a fork, she bumped the drawer closed with her hip and returned to the living room with his food.

He took the plate from her hands with a wry smile on his face. It pained him to know that he was eating food made by his 'competition'. Remy laughed as she sat down on her foot next to him. "Don't get used to this," she told him. "I don't do the doting girlfriend thing very well."

He slanted his eyes at her and blinked. "I don't do the boyfriend thing… at all."

"Uh huh," she murmured with a smirk.

He narrowed his eyes contemplating whether or not to retort at her disbelief but decided to let it go and shove a forkful of stuffing into his mouth instead. He was so full of crap. They both knew it. He just said it on principle. God forbid, he was ever found out to be the big jealous, after-sex snuggling softy that he was.

Chewing on his food, he made a favorable tweak of his eyebrows. He liked it so far. He should; it was fabulous. Stabbing a piece of goose with his fork, he swirled it around the reduction sauce and then popped that into his mouth.

"Oh my God," he groaned appreciatively around his mouthful of food.

Remy smiled. "I told you."

Taking another bite, he fervently dug into his meal. "This is incredible."

Remy watched him eat getting a sense of pleasure out of the fact that he was enjoying her best friend's artistry so much. "Teddy is an amazing chef. She doesn't cook for just anybody but her food has always been like home to me."

House titled his head at her. "_She, her_? Teddy is female?"

Smiling, she shoved him playfully. "Yes, _she_ and _her_." Remy watched his expression change from curious to duped and she laughed. "_Theodora_ is a woman and my best friend since kindergarten. No friends with benefits."

"You let me think your best friend was a guy?" he questioned narrowing his eyes at her.

Remy shrugged. "You assumed. I just didn't refute." She smiled. "What would that be? Oh yeah, a lie of omission."

He pointed his fork at her and gave her a wry smirk. "You sneaky bitch, you."

Remy lifted her chin in mock pride. "For once, I had the upper hand."

"You manipulated me into a relationship," he said.

"Not so fast tough guy," she held her finger up in protest. "You got irrationally jealous because you assumed something without any facts that my best friend was a guy and thereby manipulated yourself into this… exclusive _relationship_."

"I don't share my toys well with others," he said by way of defense.

"I know," she told him.

"I don't want to share you with anyone else," he declared.

A little tingle of excitement went through her. "I know."

"I don't do relationships," he stated.

"Neither do I," she replied.

His face changed suddenly and she saw a glimmer of doubt flash across his eyes. "Do you want out?"

"What? No," she rushed confused at what just happened. They were teasing and then all of a sudden it got serious. "I just… I mean… I don't normally commit myself to anyone. This is weird for me."

"It's weird for me too," he admitted.

She sighed and picked an invisible thread on her jeans. She hadn't meant for the conversation to go there. They were supposed to just be having fun. "Teddy's the closest relationship I have to anyone. I don't trust anyone but her."

"Wilson's the only person I talk to," he said. "And the last time I trusted someone I lost my leg."

Remy felt a brick slam into her heart at his candor. She had no idea what the circumstances were behind his disability, but the fact that he had openly brought it up was huge. He was telling her that he trusted her enough to let her in and give it a chance. That was scary. For both of them. She was afraid to say anything more.

He finished the last of his food and placed the plate down on the coffee table. He sat back and regarded her for a long moment. Waiting for him to say something, she shifted a little under his gaze.

"I don't really want to analyze what we're doing here," she told him. "I just know that I like it."

He brought his hand to her face and pulled her close to him so that she was on top of his chest. "Then it is what it is."

Inches from his mouth, she breathed in the scent of his breath. She should be grossed out by the mixture of flavors with the sweet smell of bourbon but she wasn't, it made her want to kiss him more. "It is what it is," she repeated breathlessly.

He looked into her eyes stroking the side of her jaw with his thumb. There was an intensity there in the depths of blue that she couldn't name and it frightened and excited her all at the same time. She brought her tongue out to moisten her lips moving in to kiss him but he pulled back with a chuckle. "Did you bring me pie?"

Remy laughed and dipped her forehead to his chest. He made her dizzy again with his switching of tracks so randomly. "Yes, praline pecan pie."

"Yummy," he said running his hands up and down her back. "I want pie and then I want to bang my girlfriend until she wakes up my neighbors screaming my name."

"I think that can be arranged," she giggled bringing her lips to kiss the pulse in his neck. Remy spoke the truth when she said that she didn't want to analyze what was developing between them. But, a huge part of her danced for joy as he called her his girlfriend for the second time in two days. As cheesy as it was, it made her feel like she was the luckiest woman in the world.


	30. Chapter 30

The Gauntlet

Chapter 30

House sipped his coffee tiredly as he listened to the ducklings drone on about what, he had no idea, because he really wasn't paying attention. They didn't have a patient in this abyss of doldrums between Christmas and New Years. He could care less what they were talking about because it held no interest for him. Instead, he was busy looking at the alluring curve of Thirteen's foot as it dipped into her funky looking grandma shoe. It was an ugly shoe but somehow it looked incredibly sexy on her. The soft arch swept at a delicious angle as she tapped her foot errantly while she listen to Kutner. She was bored too. He could tell by the pout on her full, luscious lips as she tried to pretend to be riveted to the young puppy's story.

Briefly, House thought about concocting a ruse to rendezvous in the storage closet down the hall but she had her period and that put that prospect currently out of the question. So he just looked, thinking about how he'd dragged his lips down that very same curve a night ago. Thank God, they didn't have a patient because he didn't think he could focus worth a damn on anything more than one plus one equaled one hell of an orgasm. He didn't know why he was so horny for her. She'd slept in his bed every night since Christmas Eve. He'd had more sex in the past week and a half than he'd had since…. He was going to say college but that wasn't true. There was that incredibly hot red head from the yogurt shop Wilson liked to go to… well, used to like to go to. Because they weren't allowed back in there since House stopped fucking her. She had threatened to grind him up and serve him as the newest flavor and call it something ironic like blood orange sorbet. Yeah, she was a psycho. But the sex was hot. Though not as amazing as the sex with Thirteen. No, this particular auburn haired beauty had him figuratively tied up in knots.

He couldn't get enough of her. He couldn't stop thinking about her, touching her, smelling her, just plain looking at her. She was beautiful, sexy and alluring. She had consumed his every waking thought. He craved her like she was Vicodin. He knew it was not a nice thing to compare his girlfriend to his drug of choice but damn it, she was his addiction. No amount of bourbon, scotch, rum or vodka mixed with Vicodin intoxicated him like she did. His instincts told him that was bad but his inner selfishness reveled in it. She mesmerized him and he liked it.

"House!" Foreman shouted at him in irritation.

House tore his eyes form her foot and glared at him. "What?"

"Employee year-end reviews are due in two days," Foreman declared staring at him like he'd actually gave a crap.

"What reviews?" he asked dumbly. He knew nothing about reviews. _Or did he?_

"The reviews that determine raises," Foreman griped at him like he was retarded, which frankly he was, just a little bit, right now because all of his brain power was down in his pants.

House knit his eyebrows together in confusion and shifted in his seat. Four sets of eyes were now on him, staring at him expectantly. "Raises? Oh those reviews! Yeah, what about them?"

Foreman barely stifled a frustrated chuckle of disbelief. "Are you going to do them?"

House frowned and wrinkled his nose in contemplation as he looked around the table. Taub, Kutner, Sexy Girlfriend and Foreman peered back at him. He pointed at Kutner and Thirteen. "B pluses for you two," he said and then pointed at Taub. "A plus for you because your pocket sized and just so cute." He punctuated his statement with a wink and then turned to Foreman, jabbing his finger at him. "And a D for you because you're the cloud of Doom that always has to rain on my cheerful idleness."

"B plus is good right?" Kutner asked leaning back in his chair.

"Yeah, considering you did set a patient on fire and electrocuted yourself," House reminded him.

Kutner nodded in agreement. "Cool." He had that dopey grin on his face and House just shook his head.

"Why do I get a B plus?" Thirteen questioned, her mouth open in incredulity.

Taub snorted. "What? You think you deserve and A just because…" he paused suddenly and changed his line of reasoning as House stared at him, "… he brought you back?"

A silence fell over the table and House flicked his eyes back and forth between Thirteen and Taub. She immediately looked chagrinned, knowing she stepped over bounds and Taub put on his usual mask of indifference, pretending like he hadn't just accused them of sleeping together. Foreman raised an eyebrow at House and Kutner looked at him like a deer caught in headlights waiting for the fallout.

House narrowed his eyes and set his jaw in irritation. "You get a B plus because you killed a patient and his dog and you were disappointingly just a step above Cut-Throat Bitch in the end," he stated sharply. He didn't want to have to cut her like that but he had to; she'd forced his hand.

She took in a swift breath at his harsh words and bit down on her lip to keep her emotions in check. Her eyes flashed a cold gray spark at him, but she merely shrugged as if she didn't care and said, "Whatever."

He was about to get up from the table and abandon this whole pointless exercise when Cuddy came in. Rolling his eyes, he could barely contain his aggravation. "Please tell me you're coming in here to give out your annual blow jobs for another year well done, otherwise get out."

Cuddy gaped at him for a second, shocked by his assault on her character, and then recovered with her more typical disdain for his sense of humor. "Nope. You should be so lucky," she retorted. "Instead I'm here to remind you of the New Year's Eve Benefit for the Children's Oncology Center tomorrow night where you'll be the one giving out blows jobs in exchange for money."

House rolled his eyes and groaned. _God, he hated those things more than life itself._ "Bald cancer kids. Didn't _Make a Wish_ just give a bazillion dollars? What do you need my tender, ass sucking lips for? Isn't Wilson's department lining up for that?"

"Because you and your little team here cost the hospital the most money out of all the departments," she said. "And, you owe me." She had that look of a woman with his nuts in her greedy little clutches. It was true. He couldn't deny it. He did owe the woman tenfold. She'd bailed his ass out so many predicaments that it wasn't even funny anymore. And she'd let him hire back Thirteen. Even though he was working off a kidney in clinic hours for that, he did still owe her a lot more for that favor, too.

"Can't we just schedule a jell-o wrestling tournament, " he begged. "They're way more profitable and Thirteen can wrestle Cameron. We'd all pay good money to see that."

Thirteen shot him a glare and bit back a retort as she crossed her arms impertinently over her chest. The 'you wish, buck-o' practically oozed out of her pores.

Cuddy rolled her eyes at him. "Sorry, no. Get your tux out of the cleaner's and put on your dancing shoes because you're coming to the party," she stated firmly. "And that goes for all of you." They all grimaced and tried to surpass their audible groans of dismay. "Oh, and you're all staying until midnight when the ball comes down."

"But mommmmm," House whined. "That's past my bedtime. Are you gonna tuck me in?"

"Midnight," Cuddy repeated with vehemence and a sharp finger. If he wasn't already tapping Thirteen, he would have been excited by Cuddy's stern little mistress lashing. Now, it just kind of had the original effect it was supposed to and that sucked.

Satisfied that they would all be in attendance, albeit reluctantly, Cuddy trotted out on her heals with a triumphant sway of her hips. Yeah, that too didn't have the same effect it once did. He was left flat, with a vision of the curvy ass that sat across the table from him, now pissed off at him because he had to bitch slap her for almost letting out their secret affair and offering her up for a lesbo dessert encounter with the girl he was once supposed to be pining for. Yeah, those period hormones were going to come back to bite him in the ass.

Taking the coward's way out, he retreated to his office to get his sport coat. He was going down to the clinic to work his hours so he could keep her pretty little ass there. She'd get over it because she knew she was wrong. And after all of his sexist remarks, he was pretty sure that no one was the wiser.

Foreman followed him into the office, much to his dismay. "You have to do those reviews."

"I never do the reviews," he said putting on his coat. "I'm on a new crusade to save the rainforests by not generating senseless paperwork."

"They deserve a raise," Foreman stated.

House rolled his eyes. "They just got here, for crying out loud. They haven't done enough to warrant a raise."

"Maybe, but they still deserve feedback on their performance," he pressed. "They need to know where to improve."

House cocked an eyebrow at him and rounded his desk forcing him to follow him out to the hallway. "What? My scathing remarks and 'you're an idiot' doesn't tell them they've screwed up?"

"No because you tell them that even when they do have good ideas," Foreman contended as he followed him to the elevator. House pushed the button three times with his cane and took out a lollipop from his coat pocket.

He stuck the cherry candy into his mouth. "You do the reviews if you're so hell bent on critical feedback."

Foreman eyed him suspiciously. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," House shrugged. "You do 'em, I'll sign 'em."

Foreman shook his head in disbelief. "There's always a catch."

"Fine, don't believe me," House shrugged again. "I don't care. I'm not doing them."

The elevator door opened and he limped in, Foreman stepping in beside him. "Fine I'll do them," he said.

House smiled. "I knew you would."

Foreman rolled his eyes, knowing he was had. They rode in silence for a few moments before he rocked back on his heals for a second. "Are you sleeping with Thirteen?"

House slide him a glance. "Now that's a rather personal question."

"Are you?" he urged, "Or aren't you?"

House turned his head to stare at him fully. "No."

Foreman nodded. "Good, because I'm going to ask her to go with me to the Oncology Benefit."

House's face turned to stone and he though he might actually stop the elevator and beat Foreman to a bloody lifeless pulp with his cane. _What the hell?_ "You like her?"

"What's not to like," he said. "She's hot, mysterious, a little wild _and_ she hates you."

"Good qualities for all your dates," House muttered and swallowed hard. He couldn't believe the feeling of hatred and bile that was rising up in his stomach right now. "You think she'll actually go with you?"

Foreman raised a cocky eyebrow at him. "Oh I know she'll go with me."

House couldn't do anything. He couldn't say anything. He was at a loss and he was trapped. And he wanted to kill Foreman with his bare hands. House wasn't a man normally prone to violence but for this he might actually make an exception. In spite of this, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it if he wanted to protect her and keep their affair secret.

"So go with her. I don't care what you do." It was a flat out lie, but he had no choice. His only hope was that she'd say 'no'.

The elevator dinged and the heavy doors slid open. "Good," Foreman nodded his head in satisfaction that he was given the green light to pursue Thirteen and exercise some authority over the ducklings. He stepped out of the elevator and headed in the direction of the cafeteria with a bounce in his step. However, House couldn't breathe. He couldn't think; he couldn't move.

_What the fuck was going on with him? Foreman was going to ask his girlfriend to go on a date! And he was going to let it happen!_

The doors began to close and he snapped back to reality sticking his cane in between them. He limped heavily out of the elevator. This was a problem. A very big problem.


	31. Chapter 31

The Gauntlet

Chapter 31

"I fucked up, Teddy," Remy said dejectedly into her cell phone as she sat in her car for some privacy. She couldn't talk anywhere in the hospital because there were ears everywhere and though she practically broadcasted her relationship with House this morning, that was the last thing she really wanted to do. Rule number one was that the team could never know and she nearly flushed that one straight down the toilet with her immature desire to be praised. _Idiot_.

"_It can't be all that bad_," she heard Teddy's voice through the earpiece. "_You didn't come right out and say you were fucking him, so that's a plus._"

"Yeah, I guess so," she muttered on a sigh. Her breath caused a cloud in the frigid air as she talked. Shivering, she burrowed into her coat a little bit.

"_What did he say after you asked him why you got a 'B'_," Teddy asked.

Remy cringed at the memory of his voice and the coldness of his eyes. "He insulted me and reminded me once again how I killed a poor invalid and his dog."

Teddy suppressed a laugh and then cleared her throat. "_Well, he obviously didn't mean it because you still have a job_."

"House doesn't say anything he doesn't mean," Remy scoffed. His words were always calculated to pierce the heart with the most venom possible. He meant it, all right.

"_Well maybe you still have a job because you're fucking him_," Teddy supplied. "_Did you ever think of that?_"

"Why do you always have to make it sound so disgusting?" Remy argued miserably. "And we didn't start having sex until after he hired me back. So I'm there on my own merits."

"_Was that before or after you did drugs with him?_"

Remy rolled her eyes. "After, but he came over that night to hire me back," she said defensively. "The drugs part only happened because he got distracted."

"_By your perky little tits_," she laughed.

"This isn't funny Teddy," Remy protested throwing her hands up in frustration. "I don't want to screw his up."

"_Then fuck that guy and his stupid B plus!_ _You know you're better than that,_" Teddy retorted angrily. "_From what it sounds like, he doesn't really take the reviews seriously anyway which means he probably won't even do them and he only said that because he was hiding the fact that you're having an affair_."

"Maybe," Remy muttered, though it sounded entirely plausible.

"_It was a douche bag thing to do but it makes sense_," Teddy replied. "_When I was having sex with Reynaldo, I treated him like complete shit so no one would pay attention that we were doing it in the walk-in refrigerator after every delivery._"

Remy laughed because she remembered how twisted that affair was. "Your probably right," she agreed feeling slightly better, if not at least a little amused. "So, I need a dress for this stupid Oncology Benefit…"

"_You should dress like a minx to get a rise out of him, literally and figuratively_," Teddy mentioned and then laughed at her own joke. "_Show all five hundred and twenty feet of those legs of yours and he'll be sorry he called you out on the carpet_."

"He's already seen every square inch of my body," Remy said biting on her thumbnail as she thought about how his fingers could run over her skin and melt her like butter. How was it that he could still be such an asshole and turn her on at the same time?

"_Yeah, I'm sure, but at the benefit, he can't touch you_," Teddy said deviously. "_It'll kill him_."

Remy thought about it for a moment and wondered how exactly this benefit was going to play out. They couldn't very well go together but they could technically show up separate and hang out together. They did work closely so it wouldn't be all that suspect if they spent some time in the vicinity of each other.

"Have you got a dress like that?" she inquired knowing her friend had a closet full of all sorts of dangerous dresses.

"_Oh yeah_," Teddy replied. "_I've got a dress like that_."

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

House sipped his coffee again, in the same chair he was sitting in this morning with the same boring scenario going on around him again. If he had any more caffeine in him today, he might vibrate clean out of the chair. Taub was doing a crossword, Kutner was reading a _Star Trek_ book, overgrown adolescent that he was, and Thirteen was flipping through a magazine. Foreman was filling out paperwork and House could only assume it was the absurd pretense of the evaluation sheets that Cuddy had so inconspicuously dropped off on his desk for the third time after lunch. The others had somehow spontaneously combusted when they got too close to the Bunsen flame in the Pathology lab.

He watched the neurologist close his file and eye Thirteen with an appreciation that made his blood start to boil underneath his skin.

"Dr. Hadley, can I have a moment of your time in House's office?" Foreman asked congenially.

House narrowed his eyes at him as Thirteen looked up from her magazine warily. "You're going to ask her here?"

Foreman growled at him in irritation. "I was going to discuss her review with her but yeah, I was going to ask her here."

"Why not right now?" House tossed out casually, though there was nothing casual about how he was feeling at the moment. "We're all family." He couldn't believe that Foreman actually had the stones to ask her in the office. He wasn't even going to wait to walk her out after work and ask her in private. _Homie was a_ _play-ya extraordinaire_…

Foreman gave him a weird glance at his suggestion and Thirteen's eyes widened in suspicion. "Ask me what?" she asked inquisitively.

Foreman sighed and gave her a smile. "Ok fine," he shrugged and stepped closer to her. "I wanted to know if you would attend the fundraiser with me tomorrow night?"

Thirteen's eyes widened to saucers in shock. Her mouth even dropped open. House could tell that she was trying to resist the urge to look at him because her eyes were all over the room. They landed everywhere but on him. His however, took in the whole scene. Kutner's mouth was agape and Taub looked at Foreman like he'd sprouted two heads and a tail. House felt like he might throw up.

"Um I… uh," she stammered unsure of what to say. She clamped her mouth down and grimaced, confused and trapped between a rock and a hard place.

Foreman watched her and then smiled that charismatic smile he reserved for the ladies. "It's just dinner and dancing with a colleague, that's all."

Finally she looked at House for some kind of confirmation, concurrence, dissuasion, anything, but his face remained passive. He hoped his eyes didn't betray the riot of feelings swimming around his head at the moment. He silently willed her to turn Foreman down but he did nothing to really indicate that he had an opinion either way. He couldn't reveal his feelings for her, because it was none of their business. And a really self-destructive part of him needed to know she'd turn the invitation down on her own.

However, that wasn't going to happen. Her eyes turned an icy shade of gray and she coolly looked away from him to Foreman turning on that brilliant smile that she had showed him just this morning when she kissed him goodbye. Now she was sharing it with Foreman and his stomach turned. "Sure, why not… I think it'd be fun to go together."

Taub and Kutner's expression deepened in mystified shock as Foreman's turned to swaggering triumph. "Excellent, I'll pick you up at 8:00."

"Perfect," she said coyly, as if it were real date.

Both Taub and Kutner's eyes went from Thirteen to House to Foreman and then back to House. They were waiting for him to react, to say something…anything. They looked as if they suspected and wondered why he wasn't doing anything about it. So was she, for that matter. If truth be told, he didn't really know what the fuck he was doing.

Rising from his seat, he dumped his coffee into the sink. "Careful, his BMW turns into a pumpkin at midnight." That said, as if it was one of his million dollar retorts, he limped out of the office and went in search of Wilson. In actuality, it really only added up to about thirty-five bucks when he thought about it, but he was a little off his game at the moment. He needed a consult.

Swinging the office door open, he entered the room and folded himself into the chair across from Wilson desk.

"Foreman's macking on my girlfriend," he announced with a heavy sigh.

Wilson cocked a curious eyebrow at him from over his file. "And you know this how?"

"He just asked her to go to the Oncology benefit tomorrow night," he murmured running a hand over his face in supreme frustration.

Wilson paused in his charting and raised his eyebrow higher. "And what did she say?"

"'_Sure why not. I think it'd be fun to go together_'," he mocked her girly voice with slightly more _girl_ and _enthusiastic edge_ than she used.

Wilson let out a breath between his puffed out lips and nodded. "And you're not happy about this, I take it?"

"Of course I'm not happy about it," he griped. "Like I said, Foreman's macking on my girlfriend." _How this thing went this far, he had no idea._

"So what are you going to do about it," Wilson asked cautiously.

House rand his hand over his neck, cracking his jaw with a pop. "I was thinking about giving him a paralytic and then taking him out back and putting him in the medical waste dumpsters. Want to help?"

Wilson started to laugh and then stopped when he realized the seriousness in House's face. "I suppose it's doable," his friend responded with a calculating shrug. "He's a big guy, though. You better give him enough to kill him."

House arched and eyebrow at his figurative partner in crime. He didn't expect him to literally get his back on this. "Maybe I should just fire his ass," he groused instead.

"Or fire hers, and then you can screw her out in the open and no body will care," Wilson suggested flippantly.

"What's gotten into you," House questioned.

Wilson grinned cheekily. "Nothing."

House pointed at him and cocked his head to the side in disbelief. "Nah, something's up." He stared at him for a second searching for a clue. "You're happy."

"Oh what? This?" Wilson circled his finger around his cheesy smile. "This is the face I get when we're planning another doctor's demise."

House shook his head momentarily distracted form his own convoluted situation. "No. That's… that's your 'getting sex' face. You have a girl friend, or a really good hooker," he surmised.

"I beg your pardon," Wilson snorted indignantly. "She is not a hooker." He tipped his head to the side and muttered, "Though you have called her that."

House narrowed his eyes at him letting his last statement sink in. Suddenly, he let out a girlish gasp before he could stop himself and then shook his entire body as a shiver went down his spine. "Oh my god! You're sleeping with Cuddy?"

Wilson reeled back, "What? No!" He sighed and paused and then looked at him fervently under his dark eyebrows. "Ok, yes."

House felt a little scream escape his mouth. He clapped his hand over his lips. "What?" _This was unbelievable_. "Seriously?" _It couldn't be happening_. "Dude!"

Wilson laughed in unadulterated mirth. "You're funny when you're truly horrified," he actually chortled. "You screamed like a girl."

House rolled his eyes. "You fucker." House shifted in his seat and swallowed down the little bit of vomit that regurgitated itself. "You're really not sleeping with her?"

"No, seriously," he said gravely, "I am."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" he gasped. This just wasn't funny anymore. "She's the spawn of Satan. _No, she is Satan_!" He stared at his best friend and wondered what had possessed him. No sex, even with those fabulous tits, was worth that kind of humiliation. "You're junk is going to turn black and fall off, man!"

Wilson chortled again. "I'm just kidding," he giggled. "I am not sleeping with Cuddy but I am sleeping with someone else, but you'll find out who at the benefit."

House narrowed his eyes at him now totally suspicious of everything that came out of his mouth. "You're a liar and I don't believe you," he muttered getting up from the chair holding his cane to him like a security blanket. "I came to you because I need to figure out how to kill my secret girlfriend's new boyfriend and you toy with my fragile emotions? I hope you're proud of yourself."

"Oh the look on your face was well worth it," Wilson said chuckling. "Man up and claim your girlfriend, House, or you're going to lose her."


	32. Chapter 32

The Gauntlet

Chapter 32

House tugged at his starched shirt collar for the hundredth time already and he wasn't even in it for more than forty-five minutes. He hated penguin suits, hated fundraisers, hated donors that weren't already dead and now he hated Foreman more than usual. _What the fuck?_ This was going to be a really shitty night.

"Leave it alone, you're going to asphyxiate if you keep pulling on it," Wilson admonished coming up behind him looking decidedly like James Bond.

House breathed in a disgruntled sigh and craned his neck against the sharp wings of his collar. "I think my neck is expanding."

"No it's just your head growing out in proportion to your giant ego," Wilson assured him.

"The last time I wore this stupid monkey suit, it fit much better," he complained tugging on his shirtsleeves from under his coat.

"You look fine," Wilson consoled him. "It's actually quite dashing."

House rolled his eyes at him and bellied up to the bar, which was exactly where he planned on spending the entire night. Unfortunately, he had a clear view of the dance floor which was full of rich fat cats and their fat wives in sparkling muumuus dancing to some Frank Sinatra. The hospital lobby had been transformed into a nightclub by some magic wave of a wand and looked nothing like itself. It kind of added to the surreal experience of the night. "Where's your demon whore? I need to make sure she sees me so I can get a gold star for perfect attendance."

Wilson sighed and rested his elbow on the bar. "She's not my whore and she knows exactly where to find you. Jack and diet Coke please," he signaled to the bartender. "Bourbon neat?"

House nodded and rested his silver neweled cane against the flat kick-stop of the bar, taking a seat. "So where is this lady love you promised to show me then? Do I know her?"

Wilson sucked air between his teeth and shook his head. "Not telling just yet. Gonna let you sweat it out a bit."

"Oh great," House muttered taking the proffered glass fro the bartender. "Because this evening couldn't get any more annoying."

Wilson clapped him jovially on the back. "It's New Years, House, think of it as turning over a new leaf."

"How about I stab you in the eye for your wallet and we call it even," he griped swigging a large sip of his drink. He figured if he had to be here and watch the travesty of Thirteen with Foreman he might as well be drunk doing it.

Wilson shook his head. "There's blackjack and Texas Hold 'em at those tables and roulette over there. You'll know where to find me."

"I'll be here, holding up the bar," House muttered toasting him with his glass.

House sat for a long while nursing his drink. He had texted Thirteen yesterday evening to see if she wanted to do dinner together but she declined claiming she needed to get a hair cut and a pedicure. She had actually painted her toenails two nights ago so he wasn't sure why she needed to get them done again. He would never understand women. He assumed her need to be alone had more to do with her being pissed at him again, however. And he didn't really blame her, he was a dick for saying what he said about her review and then just letting her be picked up by Foreman like he could give two shits less what she did.

The truth was he was stuck and he didn't know what to do. She had expressed to him that she didn't want to analyze what their relationship was, which to him meant that she didn't want people to know about it either. Maybe because it was so new, or maybe because she didn't want the backlash and gossip of sleeping with her boss. Either way he was cool with that. He didn't need to know or label what they were doing and he was fine with it being a secret. Less questions to answer. He just knew that he wanted her no matter what form it came in. But, the thought of sharing her attentions with anyone made him crazy with jealousy. That part was new and definitely unexpected. So he sat there and drank because it was the only thing he knew how to do.

A little over two hours had passed, he had played some poker, lost a ton of money because he couldn't focus worth a damn and was back at the bar warming another drink with his hand. He was about to make another go at the blackjack table when he saw Foreman make his way through the crowd and his eyes immediately went in search of her. He didn't have to look very far; she was behind her date holding onto his hand as he led her through the groups of people conversing.

House's breath caught in his throat as he laid eyes on her. She was absolutely exquisite. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek, high ponytail that looked elegant and stylish opening up her face. He clean skin glowed with warmth in her pink tinged cheeks and glossy lips. She wore a tiny little black shimmery dress that exposed her legs for miles. The back of her dress was cut high, much to his relief, because he liked to know that he was the only one here who'd seen the sexy tattoos on her back. In stark contrast however, the front of the dress draped very, very low into a deep jiggly V between her breasts. There was no way she had on a bra and that made him wonder if she didn't have panties on either because from the tightness of that skirt they'd have to be whisper thin to not show any lines. He groaned inwardly and took a healthy swig of his bourbon to quell the anger welling up inside him. She was beautiful and she was his. And she was not with him tonight. Because he was an ass.

"Hello, stranger," a voice came up along side him and took the stool next to him.

He tore his eyes away from the scene before him to find Cameron smiling brightly at him. He lifted the corner of his mouth into a brief smile and nodded his head at her. "Hey."

Despite his preoccupation, he couldn't help but notice how lovely she looked this evening, too. Her blonde hair fell into full soft waves onto her shoulders bared by the strapless top of her gown. She was in a simple, yet refined, sapphire blue shift that knotted into a brooch between her breasts. If he were in a better mood, he would have made a comment about the diamonds laying a valley of nothing, but alas, he was in no state to mock her. Besides, she always cleaned up well, he couldn't fault her that.

"I see you're getting a decent head start on the evenings festivities," she observed gesturing to his near empty glass. He didn't let on that it was his fourth glass, but whatever. She should know him well enough by now to make her own assumptions.

He lifted his glass to the bartender and looked at her, "What's your poison?"

"Chablis please," she said as the man approached.

House grimaced. "You really need to up your tastes in wine. It borders on your taste in men…"

"Bitter and really aged," she cut him off with a snarky grin.

House actually found himself laughing at that one. "I was thinking more blonde, tasteless and uninteresting. Speaking of which, where is the Wombat this evening?"

Cameron smiled at him. "Oh, we broke up a month ago," she leaned in conspiratorially. "I'm here with Mickleson."

Surprised, House pulled back and regarded her for a moment. "Really?"

"He drives a nice car and he's a good kisser," she said with an airy laugh.

House eyed her suspiciously. "What'd you have to do, tie him down and prick him with an IV needle for that to happen?" he quipped sarcastically referring to the time she'd kissed in him in his office to get a blood sample from him.

She arched an eyebrow at him and gave him a quick smirk. "No, he actually was attracted to me _and_ wanted to kiss me unlike you who couldn't get out of the gate if you had a map and the set of keys."

"Uh huh," he murmured and sipped his newest bourbon as he looked out over the dance floor once again searching for the woman who had him currently tied up in knots. There was a salsa song playing and his eyes were immediately drawn to his leggy girlfriend and her companion for the evening. Foreman had his large hand in small of Thirteen's back, his hips undulating in between her legs as he whirled her around the dance floor like a tella novella superstar. House could feel his blood pressure rise and he squelched it with another sip of bourbon. Unfortunately, the drinks were watered down so it even though this was his fifth glass, it didn't have the effect he was hoping for.

"So did Cuddy blackmail you into being here to night," she asked curiously, trying to make conversation.

"Pretty much how things work," he said. "As you well know."

"Well maybe you'll get some mysterious disease come in and you can whisk your team away under the pretense of solving it before the person dies," she said to him with an amused chuckle. For some bizarre reason she was exceptionally happy and she felt the need to spend it on him.

However, House wasn't interested because he couldn't take his eyes off of Thirteen. The woman moved like liquid heat in Foreman's arms. She was vibrant and alive when she laughed, beaming her radiance on him when he spun her out of his arms and then back against his chest. House could recall the musicality in her voice inside his head even though she was too far away to actually hear. The effervescent sound had permanently imprinted in the soundtrack of his mind. He felt a pang in his heart knowing that he'd never be able to experience that kind of joy of movement with her. His damn leg held him back from everything.

"Uh oh," Cameron murmured.

He blinked and sliced his eyes to the side to look at her. Cameron had that knowing smile on her lips that she always got when she thought she knew what he was thinking. "What?" he barked at her.

"I've seen that look before," she said quietly, resting her hand gently on his arm.

He took in a breath at her unwelcome touch and narrowed his eyes. "There's no look."

"Oh, there's a look," she insisted.

He rolled his eyes and rubbed his hand over his mouth letting her hand fall to the surface of the bar. "You're wrong."

"No, I don't think I am," she said confidently. "I would know because it was never there for me."

"I don't know what you think you saw or didn't see," he objected taking a large sip of his drink but she cut him off with her both of her hands to his arm.

She looked at his face, boring deeply into his eyes with her green ones. "You're falling for her."

House fought to keep his eyes from traveling back to the dance floor to look and observe, inspecting and critiquing what they were doing. He couldn't let Cameron have the pleasure of thinking she was right, because she wasn't. Staring sharply at her, he pushed his face into a stony mask of indifference. "Ah, ever the romantic, seeing hearts and rainbows and flowers where there is none."

She pulled back and threw her hands up in defeat. "Fine. Ignore it, don't give it any credence, tell us we're all idiots like you always do," she almost shouted at him. "But for god's sakes, House, at least admit to yourself that you might actually have feelings for someone."

House stared at her for a long moment, unsure of what to say or whether or not to leave. She'd said a lot of Pollyanna, idealistic things to him in the past but somehow this wasn't the same. This seemed genuine, like she really believed it and he didn't know what to make of it.

Wilson came up to the bar at that same moment and what House saw take place before his eyes almost knocked him off of his barstool like a gale force wind. Wilson slipped his arm around Cameron's waist pulling her lithe body close to his chest and pressed a kiss to her temple as she smiled up at him like they'd been lovers for years.

"Close your mouth House," Wilson told him. "You look like an idiot."

House blinked and then blinked again to make sure they were indeed right in front of him in an intimate embrace.

Cameron chuckled lightly and placed her hand on Wilson's chest.

"But… you…" House stammered, unable to regain his verbal footing. He couldn't believe his eyes. Or his ears. This was not at all what he expected.

"I told you she wasn't a whore," he heard Wilson say, barely registering his meaning.

Snapping his eyes shut, he breathed in deeply and then let it go clearing his mind. He opened his eyes again to look at Cameron who absolutely glowed with a radiance he's never seen from her before. "You said you were here with Mickleson?"

She laughed at him. "Everybody lies."

He looked at Wilson, dumfounded. "Apparently."

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_A/N: Ha! Gotcha…_


	33. Chapter 33

The Gauntlet

Chapter 33

Remy lost herself in the music as the bass thumped in her chest and the lights sparkled around her like the colors in a kaleidoscope. She moved and gyrated to the rhythm circling her hips and pumping her arms against the beat. It felt good to just dance. She hadn't let go or been totally free of all worries like this in a long time. There was something incredibly freeing about movement to loud music. It was like she could lash out with abandon against the world without causing any real harm. Clubbing and sex and drugs, it was something she and Teddy did for a while during college just to live life by the seat of their pants. She had long since forgotten what it felt like. So she just danced.

In the recesses of her mind though, it was a little strange to be bumping and grinding like simulated sex in the middle of the hospital lobby/dance floor. This was where she worked. These were people she saw every day. She got over that really fast, however, when she realized House's eyes were on her. She could feel his gaze follow her every move for the last hour. Her skin burned and her heart beat as if his sight could elicit the same erotic feelings of his touch. It was exciting to know that she had mesmerized him to the point that he stalked her. She wanted to tease him and make him yearn for her, because she was angry that he'd just sat back and let her be taken out and flaunted by another man. For all his jealousy and claiming not to want to share, he let her go without a whimper of a fight and that pissed her off to no end. So she currently reveled in Foreman's hips swiveling against her ass with his extra large hands seductively encircling her waist. Let House be jealous and infuriated as he watched another man rub up against his favorite toy. Theoretically, he deserved it.

Remy knew, though, that what she was doing wasn't fair. A part of it pained her because she knew House could never do what Foreman was doing to her right now. House could never dance with her like this, upright and unsupported with a provocative abandon. And it probably ate him alive to watch it happening before his eyes. But, if she closed her eyes and imagined, she could fool herself into believing it was him she was with, at least for a little while. What she really wanted was _his_ touch, _his_ smell and _his_ sweat against her back. Why couldn't he have just given her a sign? She would have gladly made an excuse to decline.

The song ended and transitioned into a perky pop song and Kutner suddenly appeared off of her right shoulder. He motioned to Foreman to cut in and her partner graciously stepped aside with an amused chuckle. Taking her into his arms, she smiled at Kutner in his hot pink tie and black shirt. He looked adorable and doofy and she wondered why he'd showed up stag. There was a cute little nurse in Peeds that had a crush on him. He should have asked her to come.

Remy looked around to check on House and laughed out loud when she saw the expression on his face. Kutner however thought it was over something he'd said, so she let him swell in the glory of his small accomplishment while she kept her eyes locked on House. His brow was furrowed quizzically and he had a wry smirk on his lips as if to say '_What the fuck, now Kutner?_' He closed his eyes in a grimace and went to leave but was sidelined by a very breasty and voluptuous Cuddy in a velvet corset gown fit for a diva. He scowled at his boss and made some comment about her overflowing tits, no doubt, because the woman flung out her skinny arms like a spastic scarecrow and placed her hands on her hips indignantly as she watched him limp away.

House was miserable. Poor thing. The traitorous part of Remy that didn't hate him, felt bad for him. She knew he'd much rather be sitting at home in his jammie pants on the sofa watching TV with her tucked up against him. For as much fun as this disco was, she'd kind of rather be doing that, too.

Kutner said something to her again but this time she missed it and looked back at him caught not paying attention. "I'm sorry, what?"

He looked in the direction her eyes had been and then began to smile knowingly. "Are you sleeping with House?"

"What?" Remy sputtered. She forced out a laugh trying to cover up her momentary shock. "Why would you ask me something like that?"

Kutner laughed at her and shook his head. "Because, he's going to burn the entire building down by the way he's staring at you tonight."

"I… I don't know what you're talking about," she lied looking around to see if House was still watching her but he had moved to a different part of the room.

"I think you do," he told her, forcing her to bring her eyes back to him. "Come on, we all know. You don't think we can tell by the way you two look at each other?"

"You're wrong," she insisted with a dismissive shake of her head.

"Right, and I'm the Dali Lama," he quipped. "He's got all the symptoms: his pupils dilate, he's less jerky, he stares at you even when you _are_ looking…"

"You stare at me. Does that mean we're having imaginary sex?"

"He stares at your hands," he stated matter-of-factly. "You don't stare at a woman's hands unless you know what they can do."

Remy arched an eyebrow at him. "That's just stupid and still not a valid assumption."

"He used to ogle everything with two legs and a vagina," he offered. "Now, it's as if they don't even exist."

"So what's your point?" she snapped.

He shrugged. "I'm just saying. You guys don't have to hide it from us, because you suck at it anyway."

"Whatever." Remy set her chin firmly and shrugged. "I'm not sleeping with House."

"OK, whatever," he finished, completely disbelieving her.

The song ended and she quickly stepped out of Kutner's arms to go over to the bar. She needed a drink.

"I'll have a shot of tequila," she ordered and tapped her hands impatiently on the bar.

Foreman approached her having cooled off and looking refreshed. The bartender placed her drink down with its lime and saltshaker and Foreman lifted an eyebrow in question at her rather potent choice.

Shooting him a snarky glance, she picked up the shot glass, licked salt off her hand and tossed the fiery liquid down her throat. Slamming her glass down, she sucked on the lime to rid the taste from her mouth and breathed a heavy frustrated sigh. She turned to Foreman and stared at him for a second. _Kutner had said they all knew. That meant he did, too_. "Why haven't you made a move on me tonight?"

His dark face split into a grin and he chuckled. "Because I'd like to keep my testicles intact, thank you very much."

She glared at him for a long moment. "You think that I'd hurt you if you made a pass at me?"

"No, I think that House would kill me if I did," he told her with a laugh. "I'm already living on borrowed time for even taking you here."

"What? Then why?" she stuttered. "If you think I'm with him, why even ask me?"

"Isn't the better question, why go with me?" he countered.

"I asked you first," she said putting her hand on her hip.

Foreman rolled his eyes at her, but when she wouldn't relent he answered, "To fuck with him." Remy's mouth dropped open and he continued, "Because I can't tell you how many times he's pulled shit like this on us."

"You're an asshole," she snorted and pushed off the bar.

"Am I?" Foreman grabbed her arm and stopped her from leaving. "This whole charade, it's going to prove one of two things. Either he really cares about you and will do something to prove it to you or he doesn't and he's just using you because he's the selfish bastard we all know he is."

"Thanks, but I can take care of myself," she jerked her arm away from him and stalked off.

She left Foreman shaking his head in her wake. It was nearing midnight and she needed to find House.

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House needed air. Badly. Whipping his bow tie off he shoved it into his coat pocket and placed his hands on the cement of the balcony wall outside his office. The stone felt ice cold to the touch and it served its purpose to ground him to something real, something tangible that was quantifiable and clearly defined.

Every minute of the last few weeks had been like a dream, something that floated in on a breeze. He could feel it, experience it but never grasp it. It had no boundaries, no limitations and nothing substantial to hold onto except for the strange feeling of profound relevance. He couldn't put his finger on it, he couldn't define it and he didn't want to. He just knew that it felt good whatever it was.

'_It is what it is…'_

He could pinpoint the very moment that it started for him. He knew exactly when he'd become intrigued by her. It was their very first case and that offhanded comment she'd made about one of the other applicants confused by the naked form of a woman spooning with the naked form of a dolphin. There was sarcasm and wit to her remark. And then she'd turned the screw further and asked him if he needed a moment alone so he could 'take care of business'. She had that devilish, enigmatic smile that drew him in. She held secrets. And he wanted to know her answers even then.

Well, he'd discovered quite a few of her answers since. She had become so incredibly tangible and very, very real. And he wanted her like the air he breathed.

House didn't know where to go from here. Every relationship he'd been in throughout his life, he had control over. He called the shots; he knew what he was doing. But with her, he was completely adrift. He didn't know up from down, in from out or dark from light. Though she didn't realize it, she was in control. He didn't know when he'd lost it, or relinquished it to her but she held his sanity in her hands. This feeling was vaguely familiar if not stronger than something he'd felt, only once, quite deeply and profoundly. And that thought terrified him.

House heard the door to his office open and he closed his eyes cursing whoever was going to trespass on his solitude. He prayed it wasn't Cuddy coming to reel him back to the party because he might actually just toss her over the balcony to the street below. He knew it couldn't be Wilson because he was moon-eyed with Cameron. What the fuck that was all about was something he couldn't even fathom right now the way his head was swimming in his own personal bullshit. He'd put that on the back burner of 'to-figure-outs' for later.

Apparently, his hearing was going or he was drunker than he thought because he didn't know someone was on the balcony with him until he felt her gentle hands slip up his back to caress his shoulders. He could smell her perfume circle around him, that heady aroma of cinnamon warmth that lingered on his pillows long after she'd left in the morning. He closed his eyes and just breathed her in, frigid air contrasting with her spicy scent mingling together to awaken his senses.

Silently, she brought her hands around his waist to hug him from behind and he clasped both of her hands to his chest right over his heart. He noticed that she was tall enough in her strappy heels to rest her head on his shoulder and that meant that he didn't have to bend over much to kiss her. Slowly, he turned around to face her and was rewarded with that beaming smile. He breathed her in again letting the contentment wash over him as she looked up into his eyes with that annoying smirk he loved so much.

"You're cheating," she said.

He pursed his lips into a frown. "Cheating how? You're the one out with someone else."

She chuckled at him. "No, I'm at a party that our boss demanded we attend. But you're out here avoiding that party. That's cheating."

She shivered a little bit in the cold because she had practically no clothes on and he pulled her tighter against him to give her his heat. "Maybe so," he muttered.

"It's almost midnight," she told him as she splayed her fingers against his back underneath his tuxedo coat.

"Shouldn't you be back with Foreman to see the ball come down?" he asked trying not to sound like that was the last place he wanted her to be.

"I won't be seeing any balls or whatever with Foreman for quite a while," she replied with an edge she usually used when she was irritated with him.

He looked at her curiously, reserving judgment on her sudden change of feeling about her dance partner whom she so seductively rubbed her ass all over not twenty minutes ago. He wondered what had transpired to piss her off.

"They know," she said quietly. "The know about us."

He sighed drawing his eyebrows together. "What makes you say that?"

"Kutner said it, Foreman said it," she replied. "Taub as much as said it at the table yesterday. The jig is up."

"Does that bother you?" he asked carefully.

"Does it bother you?"

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Answer my question."

She deflated a little bit and closed her eyes. "No, maybe yes, I don't know," she hedged with a shrug. "I don't care what they think."

He paused for a moment, thinking about everything that this new circumstance meant. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," he said.

"I know," she smiled ruefully at him, her eyes a little misty. "But it is what it is..."

"We've broken every rule," he said with a wry smile.

"Except for numbers three and four," she mentioned with a smirk. "I've always spent the night and I haven't ever talked about your leg."

"True," he nodded and then his breath hitched in his throat. "I can't do this anymore."

Her hands stilled instantly and her body tensed as his words absorbed into her. Silently, she stepped back away from him like he'd burned her.

He didn't know why he said it. It just came out. He didn't really even know what he meant by it. Though something told him it was probably for the best.

The look of betrayal in her eyes tore at his heart and he told himself that it was better to do it now then get in too deep. Like ripping off a band-aid; quick, sharp pain that went away eventually instead of lingering for weeks on end. He didn't want to break her heart. He didn't want to be responsible for that kind of pain. This whole 'friends with benefits' thing was nice while it lasted but it got too complicated, like he knew it would, and… now it was over.

She swallowed once and lifted her chin proudly. The expression on her lovely face as she searched his eyes for some kind of reason changed from one of utter shock to that chilling, unreadable disguise that she wore so perfectly. He was instantaneously no longer privy to what was going on behind those beautiful aqua gray eyes that had bewitched him beyond all reason. No, he had just driven a stake in that beating heart with those five little words and had killed it stone dead.

He took a step back from her acutely aware of the anger and disappointment he had just inflicted; but, was it his or was it hers, because he didn't honestly know.

With one last glance, she turned and left him standing alone, out in the cold.


	34. Chapter 34

The Gauntlet

Chapter 34

Remy kept her fists at her sides digging her short nails into the flesh of her palms as she walked hurriedly through the swirling confetti and crowds of inebriated people bumping into people's shoulders and dodging little plastic flutes of champagne as she went. She bit her lip and set her jaw firmly wrinkling her nose against the tingling of her unshed tears. She sniffed hard and forced her lashes up against the sting. No, she would not cry over this. Not over him.

By the grace of all that was holy, she found her wrap and clutch quickly and made her way to the sidewalk to catch a cab without seeing anyone of relevance. She thought she might have heard Wilson calling her name but she was too determined to get the hell out of there in one piece to even bother to pretend she hadn't heard him.

Once inside the interior heat of the car, she gave the man the address and pressed her knuckles to her mouth. She closed her eyes and took in a few deeps breaths to calm herself as she listened to the cabbie go on about the fickle winter weather in New Jersey and how it was such a shame that a pretty girl like her was alone on New Year's Eve.

Mercifully, he shut up five minutes into the ride and remained that way until he arrived at the stoop in front of the door. Remy handed him a twenty and got out, not caring about the change as she hurried up the steps to ring the doorbell. She didn't even have to lift her hand when the door opened and Teddy swept her into her arms taking her inside.

The minute they crossed the threshold to Teddy's loft, Remy collapsed into a heap on the floor sobbing out the overwhelming emotion she had contained inside her. She wept like a child in her best friend's arms letting out the pain of her shattered heart. She knew he would hurt her. She knew that he was capable of causing great pain, but she let him in anyway. She was so stupid to believe that she could handle this. She had challenged him and spited him, but she never expected the damage to be this devastating. She never expected her feeling of loss to be this immense when it ended.

Remy didn't know what happened. They were fine two nights ago. She had woken up in his arms that next morning, kissed him goodbye and then went to work. They were good. They were what they were. But then those damned reviews came and her stupid comment. And Taub and Foreman and his stupidly asking her and her stupidly agreeing to go to that idiotic fundraiser. And he was utterly, stupidly silent. It was so absurd, so pointless, none of it earth shattering but all of it so very relevant, so very important now.

So Remy cried. She cried because she was angry with herself and with him. She cried for what she could have done differently and what he failed to know. But mostly she cried for what could have been, that tiny little inkling of hope that neither one of them believed they deserved.

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House closed his door and entered his apartment. It was dark and quiet. He stepped further into the blackened void and went into the kitchen not even exerting the effort to turn on the lights. He didn't want to see. He didn't want to hear. The echoes in his mind were deafening enough already.

Grasping the bottle of whiskey and a glass from the counter, he hobbled slowly over to the sofa and placed them onto the coffee table while he removed his coat, leaving it discarded on the floor.

Ripping the phone cord from the back of the charging base, he dropped the phone on the floor and turned off his cell phone letting that fall where he stood as well before sitting down heavily onto the cushions.

He unbuttoned the front of his tux shirt and pulled the tails from his pants kicking off his shoes because he felt uncomfortably restricted even though he knew it really had nothing to do with his clothing. He sighed unable to catch his breath because his lungs burned with a crushing pain that no drug could take away.

In the stillness of the sofa, the clock in the kitchen ticked off each second, echoing in the emptiness around him. Time creeped by slowly as he sat with his hand over his eyes absently rubbing the headache that had settled onto his brow. He didn't know how long he remained like that, but at one point his eyes did register that it was 3AM.

Time. Time was supposed to be fixed. Measurable and defined. Logical.

What he couldn't understand was how if time was supposed to be so immoveable and concise, that it could stretch and expand and slow down to encompass things that should not even occur in the given realm of existence. How did years flash by in the blink of an eye but minutes, seconds could draw out in slow painful motion that stung to the core?

Two weeks. He was with her for two weeks. That was all.

He'd known her for ten. Eight of them spent trying to get her to be the doctor that he knew she could be. But two of them spent in…what? The magic of her arms? The glow of her radiance? The honor of her attention? All of it…all of it was so cheesy he was making himself sick.

It was the best two weeks of his pathetic existence since he became an angry, disenchanted, embittered cripple.

And in two seconds he had obliterated everything.

He was a fool. He was an ass.

It was only two weeks.

But he was in love.

Yeah, it shocked him too. Like a lightening bolt to the top of the head… only _after_ he'd opened his mouth.

He didn't know how it happened, nor did he understand it. But it came right up and bit him in the ass. Maybe he felt that way about her before he fired her because that hurt like noting he'd ever known until right now… then again but maybe not. Maybe it was when she's challenged him to dinner and a fuck over the hood of his car, he wasn't sure. Maybe it went back further than that because he couldn't possibly be in love with someone he'd only been with for two weeks.

Two glorious weeks.

How could he have been so blind? So stupid?

How could he have let himself fall?

He knew. He had that problem. Women he was attracted to were like parasites that imbedded themselves into his being. They made him feel things he didn't want to feel. Experience emotions he couldn't stomach. They made him want to be close, vulnerable, sappy, creepy, stalkerishly in love.

It happened with Stacey. A paintball to the chest, a martini and a night of sex and she was in his life for five years. Five fucking years because a little capsule of paint landed on him instead of that asshole behind him.

This was the same thing. A girl talks about sex and drugs and M&M's and suddenly she's all he could think about, all he wanted, all he craved. He knew the second he touched her he was lost. He knew that first morning when he woke up in her arms that he wouldn't be able to let her go. He had sealed his fate.

But everything was such a fucking game. He couldn't just shoot straight from the hip. He couldn't be honest. He always had to fuck it up. He always had to be _House_.

He loved her… after only two weeks. And he threw it away.

Reaching for the bottle on the table, he poured a full glass of bourbon and washed down three Vicodin with the entire contents.

Filling the glass again, House drank himself into oblivion.

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_A/N: It's short but it speaks volumes. Why does he do these things to himself? To the people he cares about? What is it about his hard wiring that makes him blow up his world? It's like he can see it happening but he's helpless to stop it._

_So, what does this mean for our favorite couple? Pain, angst, a little bit of heartache to be sure. Stay tuned. It's going to be a bumpy ride._

_p.s. thanks to all those who've added alerts and those of you who have reviewed! You know I love you. BTW… bare with the Wilson/Cameron thing… it totally serves a purpose. And why would that be so repulsive anyway? It's not like Wilson's a toad. If she can't have House, and she can't in this universe, he's no slouch. I wouldn't throw him out for eating cookies in bed! That's my rant. Whatever. Enjoy!_


	35. Chapter 35

The Gauntlet

Chapter 35

Remy opened her eyes to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon scones with little raisins and hot buttered icing. She would have been able to see them on the china plate in front of her pillow if her eyes weren't swollen shut from hours upon hours of crying in self-pity.

Sitting up, she tucked the covers around her in the bed of Teddy's spare room. She had no idea what time it was but the sun was bright and it stung her tender pupils as she tried to return back to the land of the living.

A frozen, blue gel facemask was thrust under her nose and Remy reeled back to look at Teddy in dismay.

"You look like a clubbed seal," Teddy announced. "Put that on."

"I'm fine," she said half-heartedly waving the frosty mask away from her face.

"Put it on," her caretaker ordered more vehemently as she hiked up the hem of her black and red flowered kimono to sit on the bed.

Remy sighed and gingerly put the mask on before it was tied to her face for her. "It's cold," she complained.

"Good, maybe it will put out that fire you got going on around your eye sockets," she griped adjusting the covers around her friend making sure she was warm.

Remy leaned back against the headboard and pressed the chilly mask to her eyes. It did feel good against her inflamed skin. "What time is it?"

"11 o'clock," Teddy replied. "Sunday morning."

"What?" Remy exclaimed ripping the mask off her face. "I slept for over twenty-four hours? I missed New Year's Day."

"Yes," Teddy stated.

"Why did you let me sleep so long?" Remy rushed out throwing back the covers. "I need to go home."

"No you don't," her friend stilled her with her hand firmly on her leg. "Sit back and don't you dare try and get out of this bed again."

"Teddy," Remy began.

"Tink," she cut her off sharply. "Enough."

Remy settled and let out a sigh as she ran her hand through her stringy hair, knowing there was no arguing with the force sitting beside her on the bed. _God, she must look a sight_. Her hair felt greasy, her breath tasted like two day old trash and her eyes, they felt like someone had rubbed sandpaper inside her ocular cavity and then threw some glass in there for a good time. She was a hot mess.

"You need to stop being a super hero and sit back and let someone take care of you for a minute," Teddy admonished holding out a cup of the delicious smelling coffee.

Remy accepted the cup and sipped at the strong brew. Unfortunately it brought memories to the surface of the team all sitting around the glass diagnostics table bitching about who was going to make the coffee on any given day. But more unfortunately, it brought memories of House as he would come in and tell them they all sucked so it didn't matter who made the coffee.

Every time she closed her eyes, she could see his face. She could recall how he'd look, sleepy eyed and dopey because he needed his caffeine fix. She could remember what he'd look like when he'd first woke up, his face all relaxed and his eyes bright with that twinkle in them pleading for morning sex. But then, she remembered his eyes, those dark sad eyes that couldn't look at her when he'd fired her and those same exact eyes that couldn't look at her when he told her he was done with 'them'. Fresh tears, from a wellspring of emotion she was sure had dried up hours ago, came to the surface again and she pressed her hand to her forehead.

"I don't want to go back there, Teddy," she cried. "I can't." _She couldn't look at those eyes again._

Teddy took the cup from her hand and placed it on the nightstand and folded her arms around Remy rocking her as she murmured soothing words in her ear. "It's ok baby girl."

"I'm so angry… with all of them. And him. I can't face him," she sobbed.

Teddy eased Remy back down to the pillow and laid down hugging her from behind, petting her hair and shushing her like a mother consoling her child. "I know it's hard."

Remy sobbed into the downy cushion letting the cotton muffle her cries. When she could shed no more tears, she turned a bit to breathe, trying to control her body into submission. She was exhausted and mentally drained. There was nothing left inside her.

"Oh my God, I'm such a loser," she spat angrily as she swiped at the salty tracks on her face. "I can't believe I'm crying over this."

"He hurt you," Teddy stated forcefully. "Of course you're upset. You're pissed off."

"It wasn't supposed to be like… this," she gestured angrily as she realized she'd just used his same words.

"No, because it was just supposed to be an affair," Teddy contested. "Just two people getting their jollies off for a little while but then he went and turned it into something else."

"I let him," she uttered miserably.

"No. _He_ gave you the key. _He_ said you were the girlfriend. And then _he_ turned tail and freaked out like a pansy assed mother fucker who doesn't deserve once ounce of your despair," Teddy retorted like a machine gun. "Don't give him your pity."

Remy sighed and bit the inside of her cheek. God, if only she could see it that way. If only she could be so black and white, but she knew that were a million shades of gray, subtle almost imperceptible differences that changed the hue of everything when it came to him.

"I'm thinking about turning my letter of resignation," Remy told her.

"What? No," Teddy shouted at her. "You are not going to quit."

"Teddy, I can't work beside him," Remy argued wretchedly. "I can't look at him."

"You told me this job was a job of a life time," Teddy protested. "You told me this job was worth all of the stupid bullshit he made you do. That you'd be able to go anywhere you wanted after your fellowship was over."

"Yeah, but…"

"But nothing," Teddy railed. "You can't just give up an opportunity to be this incredible doctor. So what that you fucked your boss. Don't let this bastard make you feel any less because of it. You are going back there with your head held high because you deserve to be there."

Remy sighed and hugged the pillow tighter. He was a bastard but he wasn't. There were times when he was really sweet. She was as much to blame. She was the one who'd pushed him and challenged him to be more than just colleagues. He was probably relieved to be done with her.

"This is his fault Remy, not yours," Teddy insisted as if she could read her thoughts. "I won't let you run from this."

"But it's my fault I'm falling apart like a baby," Remy declared, distressed with her own weakness. "I'm crying over something I never intended to have feelings about and he's probably acting like nothing ever happen. He's probably okie dokie fine…"

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House wasn't fine. He wasn't even conscious… for three straight days. Monday morning came and went and by late afternoon, Cuddy had sent out the search dogs. He was in no shape to stand let alone pretend to give a shit about patients and their whining, sniveling menial concerns.

There was a distant thumping that echoed in the thunderous cavern of House's skull. He ignored it pulling his arms over his head to deafen the sound. However, the pounding noise persisted and just kept getting louder.

He slipped into the blackness again letting it pull him under like a weight strapped to his ankle, tugging him into the abyss. He liked the abyss, there was nothing there and he didn't have to think. But something was shaking him. Something was jostling him back to the light, but the light burned and he couldn't open his eyes. He didn't want to open his eyes; it hurt to see.

"You idiot!"

House felt his lungs expand and contract with air. The air was so heavy. Suddenly he felt something hard hit his chest and push him flat on his back. With a jolt, he was awake.

"Go away," House grumbled. Of course Wilson would come to save him from his self-destruction. He could have bet a million dollars even odds on that.

"Get up," came the next gruff order.

House rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes but immediately covered them with his hand. His world was spinning.

"Are you going to tell me what the fuck happened in here?" Wilson demanded at a volume level that sent House's ears screaming for mercy.

"What are you yelling about?" he croaked. _God, his throat felt like an elephant shit in his mouth._

"House, get up!" He felt a kick to his leg. Opening his eyes, he realized he was on the floor. In his bedroom.

Using the chest in front of the footboard for leverage, he attempted to hoist himself off the ground but fell. He felt Wilson's hands on his arm and he clutched onto the wooden end of the bed as his vision tilted and whirled in front of him. _Good. He was still stone cold drunk_.

"What happened?" Wilson demanded again.

When House's eyes could focus, he looked around his room and was a little stunned with what he saw. His bed had been stripped bare of it sheets and the pillows were gone. Except they weren't gone, they were shredded open, disemboweled with their feathers strew about like a bear had torn them apart. One of his lamps was broken and on the floor and there were clothes everywhere. It looked like he had been robbed.

A dry bitter laugh scratched its way up in his throat. He hadn't been robbed. He had done this.

"Oh my god!" A gasp came from the door to his bedroom and both he and Wilson turned to look at Cameron. She placed her hand over her nose and mouth as she grimaced in revulsion stepping into the room. She tripped on something and the sound of bottles and cans rattling against the floor resounded in House head like a car crash.

Wincing as a wave of nausea took him over, House sat down on the bare mattress still gripping the footboard for stability as his position changed.

"It smells vile in here," she complained looking around at the destruction.

House shrugged. "I think I threw up in the hamper," he said pressing his palm to his thundering forehead vaguely recalling such an occurrence. "I couldn't make it to the toilet."

"You are an idiot," Wilson ground out. "What the hell are you doing to yourself?"

"Well, gee, let me see, Opie," he groused sarcastically, "It looks like I'm on a bender."

"For three days?" Wilson shouted incredulously. "What the fuck did you do?"

Cameron slid House a glance and came to stand in front of him where he sat on the bed. "Have you been drunk for three days?"

House tried to focus on her face but had to pull back in order to see only one of her. "I sobered up a bit yesterday to drive to the liquor store because I needed more bourbon. Maybe it was yesterday, I don't know. What day is it?"

"It's Monday," Wilson sniped. "You didn't come in to work _at all."_

House was a little surprised by this news. Impressive. He hadn't been black out drunk like this since the time he OD'ed last Christmas because of Tritter.

Cameron's hands were on his face all of a sudden pulling at his eyelids. He slapped her hands away but she grasped his head tightly and forced a pen light in his eyes. The beam of light immediately singed his brain and he groaned in protest. She had gotten aggressive down in the ER. Good for her. "He's still drunk," she said gravely, standing up, "And probably high."

"Did you bring the banana bag?" Wilson asked her.

House rolled his eyes. "I don't need a fucking banana bag," he griped standing up. He immediately swooned and sat back down heavily. "Ok maybe I do."

"I'll go get it," Cameron said stepping over the empty whiskey bottles and beer cans in her path.

House held out his hand. "Help me up," he said. "I can't be in here anymore."

"What exactly happened in here," Wilson asked him supporting his weight and looking around at the mess.

"I needed to change the sheets," he answered solemnly.

"And so you murdered your pillows because they staged a coup?"

Pausing, House closed his eyes and sighed. "They smelled like her."

Wilson nodded his head in understanding. He looked at his friend, the empathy evident in his dark eyes. "Let's get you out of here and sober you up."

They moved slowly to the living room where they met Cameron by the sofa as she attended to the preparation of the mineral and saline bag. House fell to the sofa cushions like a lead weight and lay back against the arm draping his arm over his eyes.

"Well, at least you ate pizza," Cameron said optimistically, looking over her shoulder to the empty greasy box on the coffee table.

He spied Wilson pick up his tux jacket, shoes, and shirt and then replaced the phone to the end table, plugging it in. "Leave it unplugged, I don't want to talk to anybody."

Cameron sat next to him on the couch and took his arm down from his head where she inserted the needle into the large vein in the back of his hand. She smoothed her hand over his brow and smiled warmly. House frowned at her sadly and pressed her small hand to his cheek. She was always taking care of him, in some way or another.

"Such a good Mommy," he said tenderly but then couldn't help himself, "You think you could put on one of the naughty nurse outfits with the thigh-highs and do a dirty sexy-dance for me?"

"Hello, I'm right here," Wilson griped at him but she merely laughed at both of them. She was lovely and a little bit of sunshine on an otherwise shit storm of a day.

Wilson stalked around the coffee table for a second running his hand over the back of his head with his other on his hip the way he did when he was distressed. "What did you say to Thirteen, because she rushed out of the party practically in tears?"

"What do you think I said?" he grumbled. "You think this is my celebration for our upcoming nuptials. I told her we were done." He knew Wilson had to have shared his circumstance with her considering the fact that she was here and now his current slam piece.

Cameron sighed at him and looked at him with pity. "You are really, truly an idiot."

He stared back at her. "Thank you, thank you for that, I feel so much better now."

"Well, she's right," Wilson scoffed. "I told you to claim her not toss her to the curb."

"Yeah well, you know me, I thought it was 'Opposite Day'," he quipped.

"Good, joke about it, that'll make the situation go away," Wilson stated in frustration. "You've been drunk and high for the last three days. I think this is a little more than 'so I dumped my fuck buddy and I'm a free agent again'!"

House sighed and stared at Cameron's beige trouser covered knees as they protruded out over the edge of the sofa. He wasn't really looking at them; he just needed something in his vision other than the look in Thirteen's eyes as she backed away from him on the balcony. "Was she there this morning?"

"Yeah, she was there," Wilson said and House let out a breath of relief.

"How did she look?"

"Pale, tired, like she was really glad you weren't there," Cameron relayed.

He rolled his eyes slightly and tried to give her a disgruntled face but his facial muscles still weren't working. "Do we have a case?" he asked.

"I wouldn't know," Wilson griped. "I spent the entire day searching the hospital for _you_."

"You didn't tell Cuddy about my hiding spot in the basement Janitor's closet did you?" he asked suddenly concerned about Wilson's trek through the hospital.

"No," he said absently, contemplating something in his mind. "House, what happened to make you call it quits?"

House turned his head to the side avoiding his friend's suspicious eyes and Cameron's even more perceptive gaze.

"He's in love with her," Cameron declared.

Wilson stared at him and drew his eyebrows together. "Are you?"

"No."

"He's lying," she stated.

This time, he did roll his eyes. How the fuck she could know this was beyond him. _When the hell did he become like an open book to her? _

"Well, if you are, then you have to fix this," Wilson told him.

"I can't fix it," he growled. "What's done is done."

"See this is what makes you an idiot," Cameron said to him. "This is the part where you have to _apologize_ and tell her how you _feel_."

"Um yeah, I'm good at that, " he muttered derisively. "You of all people should know."

"Exactly, dumbass," she retorted, "which is why I'm telling you to suck it up and pull your head out of your ass or you're going to be this miserable lonely old son of a bitch for the rest of your life."

Rendered speechless by the harshness of her words, he started at her and then slid his eyes to Wilson who cocked his eyebrows in agreement. "What she said."

Wow, maybe Cameron and Wilson's excessive caring genes cancelled each other out like Ritalin in hyperactive kids. She was down right brutal. It was kind of hot.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. He was starting to feel better. The banana bag was doing the trick. He ran his hand over his face and sat up. He could feel the extra growth in his beard and the grime on his skin. "Oh my God, I must look like Charles Manson."

"If the shoe fits, wear it," Wilson muttered.

He tossed a glare at Wilson and then looked at Cameron. "She's like me. When the door's closed, it's closed."

Cameron's face softened. "Then think of it like a case or a puzzle," she suggested. "Don't give up until you win."

He regarded her for moment and scratched at the back of his head, uncertain. "Then what happens when I win?"

"Simple," she smiled at him, "Be happy."

_Be happy? How was that 'simple'?_


	36. Chapter 36

The Gauntlet

Chapter 36

Sunglasses on, cane gripped tightly in his hand, House bee-lined it to the elevator and snuck in, as luck would have it, under Cuddy's radar. Wilson had concocted some story of a stomach bug and that was good enough to quell her inquisition of his whereabouts for the last three days, though really it was only the last hour of the party and one day of actual work he'd missed.

He pushed the button to the fourth floor, his body wrought with tension and dread of the unexpected awaiting him when he walked through that door. His hand shook a little and his stomach wrung itself into knots but it really had nothing to do with the behemoth of a hangover he had this morning. He was nervous. Like he was fifteen again and he was going to tell Suzanne Kelley that he was sorry for kissing her sister Beth at the base Fourth of July party instead of her. He'd wound up with a black eye and a kick to the balls, but he deserved it. He was an asshole. Right now, he'd welcome a shot to the gonads from Thirteen if it meant that maybe she could find it in herself to forgive him for being a coward. She had, after all, forgiven him for illegally testing her for a genetic disease she may or may not have. Stomping on her heart and turning tale and running scared had to kind of fall slightly below that, right?

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open with an ominous clunk. He didn't want to go in there. His stomach somersaulted and fell off the balance beam with a thud. _Fuck_. He didn't want to see her. _This was so not good_. He was anxious about her response to him in the aftermath of his stupidity. Would she be angry, spiteful, bitter? Would she not speak to him? Or would she be fine, like she didn't care? Maybe she didn't have any feeling about it at all. Like she had said, the last kind of heart condition she wanted was an emotional one. Maybe she had been the smart one all along.

Summoning strength from the very last corner of his pinky toe, House stepped off the elevator and limped to his office instead of the diagnostics room. He could see them. They were all there, including her. She was at the table with a coffee mug in her hand. He couldn't make eye contact with her because of his shades so he glanced unabashedly at her to check her reaction as she could see his approach. She wasn't looking at him, or anywhere remotely close to his direction. Instead her eyes were intently reading the dark blue folder in front of her. _Oh, thank God, somebody was dying! At least_ _he had that to brighten his already stressful day._

Sliding his coat off he traded it for his sport jacket inside his knapsack and removed his sunglasses. Squinting against the light, he groaned and ran his hand over his face. This was a hell of a lot harder than he'd expected. Tilting his head to the side, he cracked his neck and took a deep breath. _It was now or never_.

With a yank on his door, he swung it open and stepped into the lions' den. "Good morning my little cherubs, Daddy's home."

Three sets of expectant eyes were on him. One set was not. He scanned the faces at the table and they all kind of nodded their acknowledgment of his presence except for her. She refused to look at him. It wasn't like she was focusing at anything in particular or important. She just wouldn't look him _at all_. His head began to pound.

_He needed coffee. That would help_.

"Where have you been?" Taub asked curiously with a slight smirk.

Hobbling over to the coffee maker, House poured himself a cup and slid the little man a glance before resorting to his usual bravado. Placing his hand on his stomach he gave him his trademark eye roll with a girlish sigh. "Bad crab salad. Whew, had the shits for days!"

Foreman raised an eyebrow at him and Taub merely shook his head. Kutner swiveled in his chair to look at him oddly. "I had the crab salad. I didn't have diarrhea."

_Fucking figures_. House rolled his eyes at him. "Are you allergic to fake crab smothered in cheap mayonnaise?" Kutner shrugged a frown in response. "I didn't think so…" House sniped and ran his thumb over his eyebrow taking a breath. She still wouldn't look anywhere near him. Damn, his fucking head was going to split open. "Please tell me that we have a patient…"

Foreman tossed his copy of the file to him so he could grab it off the table. "20 year old male. University Ice Hockey player took a skate to the groin. Blood and pain on urination."

House winced at the implied excruciating pain that must have been but then grimaced for real as his head rebelled against the contraction of his face muscles. "Well, that's self explanatory," he groused putting his hand to his forehead as he leaned his elbow on the whiteboard. "He almost had his Jimmies guillotined."

The other men in the room shifted uncomfortably in their seats, each of them glad to have their own testes intact, while Foreman continued. "Happened a two weeks ago, he's still peeing blood and has a low grade temp. 99.2."

"Shot to the groin doesn't cause a fever," Taub said.

"But a kidney stone can," Kutner replied. "Cause the back pain too."

"And the persistent bloody urine if he's passing stones," Foreman added, somewhat optimistically.

"What kind of bloody urine?" House asked.

The group looked at him for a second so he elaborated. "Pink, orange, 'Oh my God! I'm bleeding from my penis' red, brown, what?"

"The 'Oh my god' red was in the beginning but now kind of it's pinkish," Kutner added.

"Kind of?" House stared at him. "Is that your description or his?"

"His," Thirteen spoke for the first time. "No back, stomach or trunk pain, and no real fever."

Their eyes collided. House felt his breath escape his lungs as they became locked in a trap of proximity and unfortunate circumstance. The mere seconds ticked by for what felt like a chilly, desolate eternity. She stared back at him with her cool gray eyes, her full lips pursed in a thin line. She was distant, aloof, closed… eerily calm. He felt his heart plummet as her frigid eyes pierced any hopes of her possibly misunderstanding his meaning the other night. No, she had gotten it loud and clear. So much for her forgiving him for being a coward.

Her icy gaze froze him in his spot and all he could do was stare back at her feebly struggling to regain some of his self-respect and control. "Is that his 'his' or patient's 'his'?" he asked lamely.

"Patient's," she stated passively. "We should do an MRI of his genitals to see if the skate damaged any of the plumbing inside. Odds are that the blood is from the accident and nothing else. You can take a pretty violent pounding to your second brain; you may want to die, but it isn't gonna kill ya."

House took in a swift breath. Her statement was clearly directed at him, laced with all sorts of sub-textual meaning he couldn't even begin to think about right now. Her eyes were so cold, he almost shivered. Unable to bear the scrutiny, he had to look away. _For the first time in forever, he had lost a staring contest._

Foreman cocked his head noncommittally, Taub shifted awkwardly and Kutner grimaced. None of them were willing to jump into the frigid, perilous waters with him so he was adrift without a paddle. Between the obvious allusion to severed genitalia and the iceberg that was Thirteen, this was going to be one uncomfortable case.

House inhaled a cleansing breath and looked to the rest of the group. "Go MRI his junk, run a CBC Chem 7 to check for UTI's and STD's and any other letters I can't think of," he ordered, albeit a bit mildly. "Oh and tickle his prostate while you're down there, on the off chance it wasn't decapitated and is now complaining."

The team rose from their seats and left hurriedly to run the tests.

Foreman, however, lingered around and followed House into his office. "You're hung over."

"Get out of my office," he barked at him. _How dare he? _He was lucky he didn't hitch kick him to the floor and jam his cane in his eye.

House limped over to his desk and rifled through his drawers for that migraine medication he had stashed there a while ago. If he didn't do something about this headache soon, the top of his head might actually blow off. "I don't have to explain myself to you," he spat throwing things around. "Besides I have half a mind fire your ass."

"For what?" Foreman laughed. "Dating your girlfriend?"

"She not my girlfriend," House said. _At least not anymore, no thanks to him._ "And yes for dating a _co-worker_." The irony of that statement wasn't lost on him; however, he blatantly ignored it because he was really pissed at Foreman.

"You know damn well Cuddy won't let you do that," Foreman said coming further into the office to stand in front of his desk. "We're stuck together like dingle berries."

House rolled his eyes. _Wasn't that the truth…_ "Yeah except I'm the ass and you're my piece of shit." He tossed a stack of post-its back into the desk. "I said get out of my office."

"Look, I know you're mad at me. I'm sorry," Foreman apologized. "If I had known how serious it was between you two…I wouldn't have taken it so far."

"Says the guy who dry-humped her for four hours the other night." He closed the drawer with a slam and moved onto another.

"I wouldn't have over stepped my bounds like that," Foreman continued and screwed his face up into a confused smirk. "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for migraine pills to make the jackhammer in my head stop," he told him, sifting through the drawer on the opposite side. _Fuck_… he was not having any luck.

"House you can't take those pills. That migraine medication is over two years old," Foreman insisted. "Look, I don't know what happened between you two that night but you need…."

House stood up sharply, cutting him off and abandoning his search in irritation. "What?" He narrowed his eyes at him, and the mounting pain. "Are you gonna give me advice now?"

Foreman stepped forward to drive his point home. "You need to cowboy up and show her how you feel about her."

House snorted. "Is that in your '_Homies_ are from Mars, _Shawties_ are from Venus' book?"

Foreman sighed. He actually looked almost apologetic. "You can be a dick to me all you want. I get that. I deserve it," he relented. "But she cares about you, though I have no idea why. And if you have even one ounce of feeling for her you should let her know."

House ran his hand forcefully over his eyes. "What I need is for you to shut up and write me a damn scrip for _Imitrex_ before my eyeballs rocket out of my head."

"Are you going to talk to her?" the neurologist crossed his arms stubbornly.

House scowled at him. _Was kidding?_ _He couldn't possibly be serious._ "You're going to blackmail me with my pain?" He scoffed. "You really are Cuddy's bitch."

Foreman rolled his eyes and dropped his hands. "Fine. But just talk to her, ok?" He took his prescription pad out of his inner jacket pocket and clicked the point on his pen.

"Yeah, I will, whatever… write faster," House said holding his hand out for the slip, wiggling his fingers impatiently for it to be done.

Foreman held out the paper, but then pulled it back before House could grab it. He had that look of wide-eyed seriousness. "Talk to her."

House rolled his eyes, acquiescing. "Fine."

"Ok then." He handed him the prescription finally and left to go check on the ducklings.

Tucking the slip into his pocket, House rested his knuckles on the desk and closed his eyes taking in a deep breath. _Yeah, talk to her_. Like that was going to be easy. He'd have to take a blowtorch with him just to defrost her ears so she could actually hear what he had to say. Judging from her behavior toward him this morning, she was not going to forgive him easily, if at all.


	37. Chapter 37

The Gauntlet

Chapter 37

They were unable to get Ice Skate Boy an MRI until late in the afternoon. House of course went completely off the deep end and tried to badger Cuddy into submission. However, no amount of wheeling, dealing, cajoling or sexual harassment proved successful because there had been a construction accident on the thruway during rush hour traffic and was deemed more important than a slightly bleeding penis… much to the men's dismay, of course. In Remy's mind though, the turn of events proved that God was indeed a woman. So, she had spent the better of the day avoiding House.

She was glad they had a case, albeit a completely contrived one of 'y' chromosomal allegiance, because that meant she could keep busy and not have to be around him. His general proximity to her made her heart ache. Even now, the knowledge that he was four floors up, when she was in Radiology down in the basement, was a little overwhelming.

A small chink in her armor allowed her to notice how much he he'd looked like he'd been dragged behind a pick-up trunk when he hobbled his ass in this morning. He gave them some lame excuse of a stomach bug but she knew it had to be self-induced. And for that she was glad. Good, let him feel a little bit of pain over this. Why should he be able to escape unscathed?

She had promised herself, and Teddy, that she wasn't going to let him get to her, that she wasn't going to be bothered by him. It was just an affair. They had sex. He didn't want her anymore and now it was over. It was simple math. She'd been there, done that before and she was no worse for the wear. Except somehow, this time was different.

The problem was, she wasn't getting over it like the others. Sure, it had only been a few days but this hurt like a gaping, bloody wound. House didn't want her anymore. The knowledge of that took the wind right out of her sails and left her stranded on the beach without any source of rescue. She felt empty, alone, and used.

At the onset, it felt like a privilege to be within his notice. He was intrigued by her and she nurtured the mystery because it taunted him. It made her feel special, singled out and it stupidly stroked her ego. It was a game and good god, when he looked at her it felt like she was the only person on the planet. And that was all _before_ they had even started anything. Afterwards, she felt like she was Teflon and nothing could touch her. Just once, every woman should be so lucky to have a man's attention the way he noticed her, they way he looked at her, the intimate way he touched her. Remy wasn't sure if any man could ever touch her again and live up to the way House had made her feel. He was walking sex and his mere proximity to her made her yearn.

But, if Remy really allowed herself to think, she would have to acknowledge that it wasn't just the sex that she would miss. It was his mind. He was utterly brilliant. There was a side to him that no one saw, a part of him that was tender, vulnerable and completely adorable. He liked human contact, watched sappy emotional movies and enjoyed the comforts of having someone to spend time with. Those were the parts that she would regret, because those were the parts that were the real him, completely unguarded, unprotected and genuine. He had shown her those parts of himself and then he took them away. It was like all of a sudden he packed up his toys and went home and she was left standing there without any clue that the wind had shifted direction. Her sails were empty and she was dumped. Alone.

"I didn't mean to make you upset at the party the other night," Kutner said out of the blue snapping out of her distracted reverie.

Remy plastered a smile on her face and clicked the mouse to select one of the MRI options. "You didn't."

"Do you really think House had food poisoning?" he pressed her as the familiar hum of the machine came to life when the scan began.

"It doesn't matter what I think," she told him simply. "It's what he wants us to think."

Kutner shrugged and leaned back in the rolling chair. "Yeah but," he objected. "He looks really… I don't know… sad."

Remy closed her eyes and swallowed. Of course this was going to happen. They already knew about the affair, of course they'd figure out the break up too. "He is sad… and pathetic."

"No… like _upset_ sad, not _jerky_ sad," he continued. "Do you think something happened?" _Was he serious? Did he really think he was fooling her into thinking that this wasn't about her?_

Remy focused on the scanning. "I don't really care. No structural abnormalities, no torsion, just some swelling in the prostate and urethra which could be causing the blood," she reported. "And it's really none of your business."

Kutner looked at her and gave her a concerned smile. "You've been a little distant the past two days. Are _you_ ok?"

Sliding her eyes to the side, she stared at him for minute and then forced herself into a cheerful smile. "I'm fine. And if I wanted to talk about it, wouldn't I have brought it up?"

Kutner shrugged and nodded his head returning back to the task at hand. He slid one last glance at Remy and she fired back a glare that told him to back off. _God, why couldn't he just butt out? _Remy sighed. Kutner meant well; but she really couldn't talk about it. She wasn't fine. She was upset and it hurt to just be within a hundred yards of House. Talking about it, to Kutner or anyone, wasn't going to make that pain go away.

After finishing with the MRI and wheeling the patient back to his room, they made sure he was situated comfortably before they went to the lab to meet up with Taub and Foreman to report their inconclusive results.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Much later, Remy gathered her things in the locker room and went back to the office to pick up her laptop. She was hoping he wasn't there but his lights were on and he was sitting at his desk on the computer. Every one else had gone home so she figured it was a good a time as any to return his key. Seeing as how she didn't need it anymore, having it in her purse only served as a reminder that he no longer wanted to be with her.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for the unpleasant task and pushed through the door to his office. When he heard the door open he looked at her, momentarily startled by her presence. He must have thought he was completely alone; it was late after all and she should have left an hour ago. His eyebrows grew serious and his eyes became guarded as he watched her step into the room.

"Patient ok?" he asked tilting his head toward her.

"Yes." Not really trusting her self to say more, she approached the desk with the key in the palm of her hand. "Here's your key," she said almost silently and placed it in the middle of his blotter quickly with as little provocation as possible.

Stepping back, Remy watched him take in a deep breath and his eyes darken as he looked at his returned gift. His face morphed through a maelstrom of emotions and she closed her eyes for a second against the guilt rising in her chest. She had no intention of drawing this out any longer than necessary. She wanted to be in, out, done, but for some reason she couldn't move. Opening her eyes, she saw him reach out and finger the stone before picking up and holding it in his hand. His knuckles turned white as he crushed the sharp edges of the key into his palm. Remy's heart squeezed and she stepped backward to leave. She didn't want to say anything more. There was no need to talk about it. What was done was done.

Unexpectedly, he rose from his chair then and limped around the side of his desk to come to stand before her. Still, she couldn't find it in her to move. She knew she should turn and get the hell out of there but she couldn't as his eyes trapped her there pleading with her to stay. He didn't have any right to look at her that way, like she had just hurt him by returning his gift.

Fighting with every ounce of her being, she turned around to walk out when he reached out suddenly with his hand and gently clasped her wrist. Remy took in a shuddering breath. The contact of their skin together again made her pulse hammer erratically where his fingers gently grazed her, rooting her solidly where she stood. He lowered his eyes to her hand and silently placed the key back into her palm closing her fingers over it. Covering her fist with his, his hand held her tightly as if he could somehow keep her there; somehow make her feel everything that he needed her to know. His fingers moved delicately over the flesh of her palm and at the sensitive skin of her wrist stoking her, reminding her of how beautiful it felt to be caressed by him.

Remy felt tears well in her eyes as his hand softly slipped up her arm to shoulder trailing a path of searing, unspoken words that she didn't know if she wanted to hear. Coming to rest at her collarbone, his fingers paused delicately and then curled around her neck. Instinctively, she turned her cheek into his palm. His hand was so warm, so alluring and it was almost her undoing.

She closed her eyes against the sweet pain of his caress. It was so unfair of him to touch her that way, so tenderly, so lovingly. If he didn't want her anymore, why was he touching her like he did? He had told her he was done. It had been just an affair. Nothing more.

Opening her eyes, she saw his breath hitching his chest as he stepped closer to her. A lone tear slipped over her lashes and rolled down her cheek, unchecked. It felt like no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she fought against it, she couldn't stop crying over him. The pain reflected in his eyes crushed her and it tore at her heart, confounding her. Why was he doing this to her? Why did he split them up if he felt this much for her? She knew he was inept at this kind of deep personal emotion, but after all they had shared, couldn't he have at least tried to be honest with her? But instead, he had shut her out. And now he was silently asking to be let back in.

Slowly, reverently, he brought his lips to the corner of her mouth and her heart split in two. Turning her head away from him, she rejected his need for her, protecting herself from further torment.

"Remy, " he whispered against her skin, his voice thick with feeling. The pain in her heart was overwhelming. The simple sound of her name on his lips destroyed her, almost shredding her resolve to the core. She couldn't let him play with her emotions this way. She didn't want to forgive him.

A sob escaped her throat. "Don't." She brought her hand up between them to stop him. "Don't use my name." Never once had he called her by her name until today, until this very moment.

He breathed in deeply, hovering over her, his eyes heavy and clouded with sorrow. "I miss you."

She shook her head imperceptibly, shuddering under the raging war inside of her. "You hurt me."

Pulling her against him, he sighed heavily and looked her straight in the eye. "I know."

Swallowing, she shuddered under his closeness, lured into his magnetism. He touched his lips to hers tentatively as if it were a plea for her forgiveness. His kiss burned her with memories of how sensitive and loving his touch could be, but she couldn't let him have that kind of control over her; she couldn't allow him to win. Summoning all of her pride, she stepped swiftly out of his gravity before he pulled her irrevocably under. "I can't."

He licked his lips and nodded in understanding as he stepped back from her graciously giving her the space she needed. Once out of his nearness, she felt empty and hollow. The chill that she hadn't been able to shake since that night enveloped her once again and she brought her arms around her middle to quell the ache in the pit of her stomach. She placed the key on the corner of his desk and left his office, shaken and broken.

This was so much harder than she thought it would be.


	38. Chapter 38

The Gauntlet

Chapter 38

"So what does that mean?" House asked into the cell phone after he had described the events as they went down in his office.

"You do realize that I'm not a crystal ball and I don't have all of the answers, right?" Cameron's tired voice echoed back at him.

"No, but you do speak the language and I need an interpreter," he told her, slipping his key… _her key_, into the lock of his apartment. He juggled his knapsack and his cane listening to Cameron sigh, as he stepped into the darkened living room and flicked on the light switch.

"Well, I don't really know her all that well but," she began. He could he hear her adjusting her position, as if she were in bed. What the hell time was it anyway? Why was she sleeping? He looked at his watch. _Oh, it was 11:12PM… Oops_. He stayed at the hospital a lot longer than he had intended. He supposed that he got lost in his train of thought about what to do about Thirteen. _Like three hours lost. What the hell?_ He seemed to be losing time left and right lately. Her voice continued on, "It would seem like she's torn about what to think."

"What do you mean?" he said dumping his bag on the floor and talking off his jacket.

"She confused, conflicted. She probably wants you back but is afraid that you'll hurt her again," Cameron told him.

"I can't guarantee that," he said sitting down on the couch and turning on the side table lamp. "You do realize I don't have a crystal ball with all the answers, right?"

He could practically hear her eyes roll. "No, who does? The only thing you have to say that you care about her, you love her. Did you tell her that?"

"No," he said resting his head miserably against the cushions. "That's my ace in the hole, I'm not going to tell her that if she doesn't want to have anything to do with me."

"Ok, so don't tell her just yet," she changed course. "But you do actually have to speak to her. You know have one of the new fangled crazy things called a 'conversation'. You really didn't say anything more than 'I know'?" she asked him incredulously.

House shrugged. "No. She didn't really give me much of a chance."

"When you kissed her, did she kiss back?"

"Yeah, for a second and then she pulled away," he said uncomfortably. This was not an easy conversation for him. He didn't talk about theses things. Ever. With anyone. But then again, this whole, having feelings thing, wasn't a normal occurrence for him either.

Cameron sighed. "She's definitely confused. And she definitely needs some reassurance that you want her back."

"So what should I do?" he grimaced even as the words were coming out of his mouth. He hated this, relying on the Princess of all things Emotional, to tell him what to do. He stood up and went into the kitchen. A drink was in order; he needed something to calm his nerves. After this weekend's bender, he might actually be going through the DT's right now.

"You should call her and talk to her," Cameron told him.

"Just cold call her and talk?" he asked taking down the bottle of bourbon and a glass. "That doesn't sound very wise."

"Yes, talk, House. Tell her how you feel, I know how much you hate that, but you have to…" he listened as he poured himself a decent sized glass. He lifted the glass to his lips. "… And don't be a coward and drunk dial her. That's not going to cut it."

House froze. He looked at the glass in his hand and then at the phone in the other and put her back to his ear. How the hell did she know that was what he was planning to do? He quickly dumped the glass in the sink and let out a strangled laugh. "I know better than to do that," he lied. "Come on, don't you have more faith in me than that?"

Again with the audible eye roll. "Uh huh," she murmured. "Just call her, House. I don't think she hates you as much as you think. Women who can last more than twenty seconds in your presence without calling you a jerk or filing a sexual harassment suit seem to have some kind of stupid soft spot for you."

"It's 'cause I'm so cute and cuddly," he quipped returning back to the sofa regretting that he just wasted almost five bucks worth of whiskey. This sucked…

"Yeah, you're a regular teddy bear made by grandma," she scoffed. There was an additional chuckle in the receiver of the phone and he rolled his eyes.

"Tell Wilson I'm canceling poker night tomorrow," he said. "I have to woo my girlfriend back."

"What makes you think Wilson is here?" she retorted coyly.

"I can hear him caring in the background," he replied.

She giggled and he heard rustling and kissing noises in the phone. Removing the phone from his ear, he gagged out loud. "Aw, god, I think my parents having sex is less revolting than the two of you."

"Call up your girlfriend House and beg her to come back," Wilson called into the phone. "It's your only hope."

"Thanks Princess Leia," he said and clapped his phone shut. "Big fucking help they are," he griped staring at the phone in his hand. He sighed. _Call her and talk. Right. _After tonight's little emotional episode, he wasn't sure that she'd even pick up the phone if she saw it was him, let alone listen to anything he had to say. The pain in her eyes tore through his heart to what little was left of his soul. He had hurt her. That much was clear, but she felt something for him. He may be an idiot, but that much he could tell. He had made her cry and nothing tore at him like making a girl cry.

Maybe he would text her. That way he wouldn't have to hear her reject him again. Opening his phone again, he pulled up the text interface.

::Can we talk?::

And he waited.

Surprisingly, she responded and rather quickly.

_I wanna live with a cinnamon girl, _

_So I can be happy the rest of my life with a cinnamon girl…_

House rolled his eyes and growled at himself. _Why did he have to pick that stupid ringtone for her?_ Whatever that fucking scent was that smelled of cinnamon drove him insane and made him trash his bedroom just to get rid of it. Though completely logical at the time, was a bloody stupid idea when it came to actually having to vacuum up five gazillion little feathers from his disemboweled pillows. He clicked the button to read her response.

:I'm not sure I can hold a convo with you right now:

Yeah, he wasn't sure if he could handle it either. Hence the cowardly texting…

::I pushed you too far before::

_I wanna live with a cinnamon girl, _

_So I can be happy the rest of my life with a cinnamon girl…_

:A little. It made it harder to do what I had to do:

It killed him to know that she thought he didn't want her anymore. He was just confused, scared and overwhelmed. He didn't know what he was doing when he said that he was done. The truth was he was finished hiding their relationship from everyone. He wasn't finished with her.

::I don't want you to give your key back::

Her response didn't come right away like the others had. _Ok… maybe she was processing_. He could respect that. About five minutes went by. At least it felt like five. Maybe it was two. He began to get a little antsy. Grabbing the remote, he clicked on the TV and put on Sportscenter to drown out his anxiety. Steve Nash and the Phoenix Suns were on a tear. _Yeah, great_. All it did was remind him how he'd told her about his Christmas Eve story. _Way to go Steve, way to take his mind off the fact that she wasn't responding... _

_I wanna live with a cinnamon girl, _

_So I can be happy the rest of my life with a cinnamon girl…_

"Finally… " He muttered and he clicked the button on the phone.

:Why?:

House made a face and rolled his eyes. "Why?!" he complained out loud. "Why the fuck else do you think?"

Typing in his response he pushed the send button.

::Because I want you to come back. That's why::

Her next response took even longer to come back. He was practically crawling out of his skin. The sound of the speaker actually startled him and he jumped, cursing himself as he picked up the phone.

:There are things we have to talk about before that can happen:

::But it could happen?:: He typed anxiously.

_I wanna live with a cinnamon girl, _

_So I can be happy the rest of my life with a cinnamon girl…_

:Maybe:

House felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. She was wiling to reconsider. This was good. The lines of communication were at least open. _Thank God for text_…

::We'll talk tomorrow?::

_I wanna live with a cinnamon girl, _

_So I can be happy the rest of my life with a cinnamon girl…_

:We'll see:

That was good enough for him.

::OK::

House figured he was lucky she was willing to give him that much. It was a start. Tomorrow, he'd have a plan.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

_A/N: 13's ringtone comes from an old Neil Young song from the 70's. Don't forget all you young 'uns out there House is OLD. And he went to high school in the 1970's, ala the other Eric Foreman, but he was probably much more like my boy Hyde…_


	39. Chapter 39

The Gauntlet

Chapter 39

Remy entered the hospital a little later than she had intended the next morning. She hadn't been able to sleep worth a damn last night after the heart-wrenching episode of retuning the key. That was sheer torture. He was so… painfully needy, so silently persuasive, and still oh so incredibly sexy. She wanted so badly to forgive him, to just tell him they could go back to the way they were and have it be what it would be. But he confused her and the ache of being pushed away still burned. She needed some kind of reassurance from him, yet, he wasn't able speak the words she needed to hear from him. She knew what happened last night was some form of an apology that he was giving her and she knew he wasn't really capable of uttering those words. It was probably the closest thing to an admission of guilt she was going to get. A piece of her was happy that he had showed her that much. However, she had to walk away because she was overwhelmed. Doing so made her believe she had ruined all her chances.

But then he wanted to talk. She almost fell off her couch when she'd received the first text.

Maybe that was good. Maybe they'd be able to come to some understanding, some way to coexist together without tormenting each other or jeopardize their jobs or patients. That was really all she had hoped for. But then that next text…

He wanted her back.

_::Because I want you to come back. That's why::_

An actual true declaration. Via text, but whatever, she wasn't going to be nitpicky. She could have done a jig when she read that. Actually, her heart and stomach did a full choreographed musical number complete with tap dancers and stars. It was corny and gay but it made her supremely happy. However, she couldn't deny she was still very wary.

She had thought that he didn't want her at all. Why else would he have called it quits in the first place? Apparently, she had been wrong. However, she wasn't going to jump to conclusions or assume anything just yet because they had a lot of ground to cover. And she was scared. Her emotions were raw and she was gun shy. He was dangerous to her heart and she needed some kind of promise from him, anything, that would make her believe that this was not just a fleeting thing and that he'd change his mind again. She knew there were no guarantees. But she just needed some reassurance that if he was going to break her heart it would be over something real.

Stepping off the elevator onto the fourth floor, she clutched the strap of her messenger bag and held onto her coffee cup like it was some kind of defense shield that could protect her from curious glances and speculations. Rumor had it that the betting pools were up around $500 if they got back together. How anyone even knew they were together in the first place was beyond her. It wasn't like they had sex in the storage closet, except for that one time he'd paged her down to the morgue. That was kind of creepy and hot all at the same time, but whatever, no one could have possibly known about that. Freaking hospitals were a hot bed of lies and gossip and Chase was making out like a bandit over their misery. Who knew her love life would have been so profitable?

In a daze, Remy almost ran into Dr. Wilson as he rounded the corner from Diagnostics. He reached his hands out to grasp her arms, stabilizing her as she balanced her coffee. Somehow, she managed to not spill a drop on either one of them.

"Dr. Hadley, I'm terribly sorry," he apologized. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"No, it was my fault," she rushed out. "I wasn't paying attention." Shifting her bag to the back, she lifted the corner of her mouth into an embarrassed smile. "I'm a little distracted this morning."

Wilson smiled at her with his warm brown eyes. House was right, his best friend could consol a beggar out of his last dime with those eyes. "Understandable," he said and then gave her a nod. He leaned forward and then shook his head on a laugh. "You do smell incredible. What fragrance is that?"

Remy looked at him oddly. "Just my perfume, something Asian. Why?"

He shook his head and made a curious smirk. "Definitely rage inducing..."

"Huh?" Remy eyed him.

"Oh, it's intoxicating," he rejoined. He smiled warmly again, disarming her and stepped to the side to let her pass.

"Thank you," Remy said awkwardly.

"Well, have a nice day," he told her and then continued to his office. Remy turned and watched him go and then shook her head. That was odd._ What the hell was that all about?_

Taking a deep breath she forged ahead and entered Diagnostics. The crew was around the table already drinking coffee and updating each other about Ice Hockey Boy's status. House was leaning casually against the kitchenette holding his coffee. She smiled briefly at him and focused her attention on removing her hat and gloves and putting them into her bag before she removed her coat. She took her time fixing the static in her hair and put on some lip-gloss, just because. She denied that fact it had anything to do with him because really, her lips were chapped. It was like twenty degrees outside, everything was dry.

She could feel his eyes on her, like she'd been able to for the past day every single time she was around him. There were moments yesterday that she could have sworn she felt them on her even when he wasn't in the room, like he was watching her from some secret hiding spot she didn't know about. It was oddly a turn on and she had to remind herself that she was still very, very upset with him. Yes, he wanted to talk. Yes, that made her feel better, but that didn't mean they were back together. Just because he wanted her back didn't mean they'd be able to fix this because neither one of them were good at relationships. In fact, they both sucked at it.

Turning around she, grabbed her coffee cup from the desk and went to sit at the table.

"You look like shit," Foreman tossed at her with a knowing smirk as she sat down.

Remy caught House raising his eyebrows and she glared at Foreman. "Thank you, you look like an asshole… oh I'm sorry, I thought we were having a state the obvious contest."

Foreman shook his head and House laughed, "Then you'd have to say that Taub has a big Jew nose, and that's just flat out mean." Remy raised an eyebrow at him. _What? Now he was being playful?_

"Hey, what did I do to deserve that shot," Taub scoffed and Kutner covered his mouth suppressing a laugh.

House rolled his eyes. "Always with the persecuted people party line…"

"Ashley Tisdale, hot and Jewish," Kutner threw out there. "Doesn't have a big nose."

Taub rolled his eyes. "Can you say rhinoplasty? That was clearly a Jewish nose if ever I worked on one."

"Rachel Bilson and Evan-Rachel Wood, also Jewish, but little noses," Kutner added.

Remy noticed a bowl of M&M's sitting in the center of the table. Not only was there a cereal bowl full of M&M's, but they were _pink_ M&M's. Smiling inwardly, she flicked her eyes up to look at House. He was half paying attention to what Kutner was saying and half focusing on her reaction to the candies he'd so obviously put out there for her.

"Natalie Portman, even hotter," House added as he lifted the corner of his mouth onto a sly smile and then smacked Kutner on the back of the head. "How could you miss Princess Amidala you Star Wars freak."

"It's Star Trek, not Star Wars," Kutner corrected dodging another smack, "And yes, she is a hottie and Jewish."

"Patient's not Jewish but his vitals are stable," Foreman mentioned with a measured air of impatience steepling his fingers together to keep his outburst at bay.

House rolled his eyes. "Foreman, we're talking about hot Jewish chicks, what's wrong with you?"

"Mila Kunis," the grumpy neurologist tossed out there with a defeated shrug.

"See I knew you could play," House said pointing at him.

"Scarlett Johansson. How come there are pink M&M's on the table?" Remy asked.

"Oh God yes, Scarlet Johansson, that hair, that rack, those lips…" House tossed his head back in ecstasy. The rest of the guys did, as well. He shook his head to clear the image. "You win. And I brought breakfast."

"M&M's for breakfast?" she quirked and eyebrow at him with a little smile.

"What's a little M&M's and coffee between friends?" He quipped pointedly.

_Ah, they'd always have M&M's and coffee…_ "Pink?"

He shrugged. "Come on, it's like a week after Christmas, Valentine's Day's just around the corner. I think the black and orange ones are coming out next month so we could stock up for Halloween. It was all they had." She smiled at him knowing full well his intentions. The M&M's were cute. She'd give him a 'B' plus for effort on that one. She'd give him an 'A' plus, however, for the baby pink shirt he was wearing. Extra special cute, all wrinkled with a black tee underneath. _What was he trying to do to her?_

Cuddy entered at that moment with a serious 'don't mess with me' look on her face. "I need to see you."

"Shit, maybe I didn't I leave my invisibility cloak in my other pants after all," he quipped tapping his free hand to his torso. "Can you guys see me? Because I thought I was standing right here."

"House," she said with irritation. "I need to see you about your budget for this year."

Grabbing his cane, he pushed off from the counter and limped over to her. "I gave it to you."

The hospital administrator held up a paper napkin. "$100,000,000 on a cocktail napkin from…" she peered at the printed logo, "… the Show Palace isn't going to go over really well with the board of directors."

"Hey, I can't help it that you moonlight there," he shrugged innocently and leaned his weight on his cane. "You said you wanted it like yesterday, so I…"

She crumpled the napkin into a ball and tossed it in the trash.

"Now that's just spiteful," he griped, looking at the wastebasket. "I spent a good fifty bucks on a lap dance to get that done."

House was standing behind Remy's chair now and she could feel his heat absorbing into her back. It was almost as if he were touching her he was so close.

"I need you to go line by line through your expenses from last year and decide where you're going to make cuts," she told him stepping dangerously close to him. "If you do not do this, then I will do it for you."

"So I'm guessing the personal MRI machine is out?" he asked. Remy didn't dare turn around, but she could feel him stand his ground.

Suddenly, all of their pagers went off. Remy went to stand but was blocked by him. He stepped back away from her and she scooted her chair back. It wasn't really quite enough because when she stood, she practically grazed his chest and came nose to nose with him. Their eyes locked on one another and Remy could swear she saws sparks fly. She swallowed hard and he cleared his throat stepping back further away from her to let her pass so she could head toward the door. God, he smelled good today. Just that clean scent of man mingled with soap and coffee. It was heaven.

"Patient's spiked a fever," Foreman announced. "And is vomiting."

"Excellent, let's go see…" House began but was waylaid by Cuddy's hand to his chest.

"No, you have four doctors to find out why your patient has a fever," she reminded him tersely. "You and I have a previous engagement."

Remy looked at the hospital administrator's small hand on his shirtfront and a stab of jealousy went through her. She blinked rapidly for a second and then shook her head. _Whoa, what the hell was that all about?_ She never got jealous.

House caught her eye and silently pled with her to get him out of this situation but she didn't know what he wanted her to do. Shrugging, she gave him an apologetic smile and slipped out the door with the rest of the team. He huffed a frustrated sigh and turned his attention to Dr. Cuddy. "This process will go a lot faster if you give me that lap dance you owe me since you so rudely threw out my napkin…" she heard him say as she went through the door. Remy knew he was only kidding but, it still irked her especially after witnessing how close his boss stood next to him. He was wearing that pink shirt for her damn it, not that chesty brunette in stripper pumps. And not knowing where they stood made it all the more bothersome. They needed to talk.

_They needed to talk soon._


	40. Chapter 40

The Gauntlet

Chapter 40

House was loosing his mind. His plan, though shaky at best, was going woefully awry. He had tried to get Thirteen alone to talk to her about four different times today but they kept getting interrupted by their patient. For the love of God, couldn't Hockey Skate Castrated Boy just give them like a half and hour so he and Thirteen could figure out where they stood with each other? Honestly. _Damn kid and his bloody urine was so rude. _

It was late afternoon already and House had just come out of his office from 'doing his budget' which really meant watching General Hospital. Thirteen and Kutner were in the process of doing a dipstick urine culture on the kid to determine leukocytes elevation for infection, while Taub and Foreman waited to consult with the urologist on the Doppler ultrasound of his testicles to check for acute epididymitis. Fun, fun, fun was being had by all.

As luck would have it, he had just hobbled into the doctors' lounge for a soda when he saw her hair disappear into the women's locker room. Never one for differentiation of rules he followed her in on the pretense that he was curious about the results of the urine culture. Really he just wanted to talk to her and was going to take this opportunity before the patient's kidney's decided to shut down and ambushed him again.

Stopping abruptly, as he rounded the corner to the lockers, he saw her take her shirt off. He had a clear view of her back with her tattoos and his heart skipped a beat. She was so incredibly sexy the way she moved with her feline grace. He wanted so badly to run his hand down the length of her side to the curve of her hip. He missed touching her. He missed kissing her. He simply missed all of her.

Without even realizing it, he took a step closer to her. Startled, she turned around and gasped.

"House! What are you doing in here?"

He narrowed his eyes and took in a breath and then suddenly was hit with a smell that was odious and grossly familiar. "Ah, god! Why do you smell like the subway in Times Square?"

She rolled her eyes and dropped her shirt to the bench. "Kutner, a catheter bag and a scalpel in close proximity to each other," she explained woefully.

He grimaced, knowing full well the events as they must have unfolded and now she was drenched in urine. Lovely. "So you're going to sh…"

"Shower, yes," she cut him off, looking embarrassed and awkward about his presence in the lady's locker room. Opening her locker, she covered herself with the door. "What are you doing in here?"

"I wanted to talk," he said. "But obviously you're a little busy and stinky."

She gave him a rueful smirk and shrugged, pulling out a towel up to cover her black lacey bra. He blinked and averted his eyes because it was the one he liked with the little pink bow in the center.

"Um, maybe we could talk later, tonight?" he asked hopefully, cursing himself for sounding like he was fourteen and standing in front of his crush at her school locker.

"No," she stated.

"Oh." His heart sank. She had changed her mind.

"I have a thing tonight," she amended quickly.

He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "A thing?"

She shook her head and licked her lips. "Um, it's a thing for Teddy, I promised I would go."

"Oh," he said, this time understanding. "When will you be done?" _Maybe they could talk afterwards._

She shrugged and made an uncertain face. "I don't know. It's a food tasting, I've never been to one before. I have no idea how long it would last."

"Me either," he shrugged. "It's probably a couple of hours. What time does it start?"

"Eight," she said. Her eyes were big and silver and beautiful like liquid mercury.

"I could, um, go with you," his runaway mouth proposed before the rational side of his brain had a chance to catch up with him and smack that idea down like the truly stupid one that it was. _Was he out of his fucking mind?_ A food tasting?

_What the fuck was he thinking? _ He was thinking about her perky little breasts inside that bra. Damn how they always got him in trouble. He was definitely losing his mind. God she was so beautiful, she made him literally retarded.

She, apparently, was thinking the same exact thing because she was staring at him with her mouth open. Closing her mouth, she looked rightfully dubious about the prospect of having him at a proper food tasting event at a fancy restaurant. "Uh… are you sure? I mean it's… not… you know…"

"My thing? Yeah," he said running his thumb over his forehead. He took in a breath. "I am capable of behaving for an somewhat extended period of time. I really want to talk. And you smell like pee so…"

She smiled briefly at him. "So meet you there at 8:00?"

He nodded. "Where?"

"_Café Spilletto_," she said.

He nodded again. "Great." _Great, fucking Café Spilletto_. Could this possibly get and worse? He hated that place. Stuffy, pompous and French slash Italian slash Fusion bullshit. The last time he was there he made Cameron cry. He was 0 for 1 in that ballpark. Crap, now he needed pitching coach.

_Fucking Spilletto_. _Didn't she tell him that her friend worked at La Berge?_ Damn it! What had he just gotten himself into…

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

House immediately went down to the ER to seek professional help with someone who had experience with him at Café Spilletto. CAmeron was with a patient with a bloody eyebrow. _Hardly life threatening, unlike his newest predicament_. He made eye contact with her and nodded his head to the side for her to come over.

Narrowing her finely arched eyebrows at him, she shook her head and flicked her eyes to the patient. He nodded more sharply this time and punctuated it with an urgent eyebrow. He needed her. Now.

Rolling her eyes, she passed the sutures off to the physician's assistant next to her and swiped the curtain closed before coming over to him. She snapped her gloves off with authority and tossed them into the biohazard bin.

"What's the emergency?" she asked blowing her bangs out of her forehead.

"I need a consult," he told her with grave urgency.

"Your testicle trauma patient has auto immune? Let me see the chart," she said holding out her hand. "It's probably schistocytes from hemolytic anemia."

He frowned and nodded his head considering her diagnosis. That was indeed a possibility, however that wasn't his pressing reason for coming to see her. "No file… I have a problem."

"How am I supposed to give a consult without a file, House?" she asked impatiently.

"No. _I have a problem_, " he reiterated pulling her over to the side. "I have to go to Café Spilletto tonight."

Cameron burst out laughing and then covered her mouth with her hand when she realized he was dead serious. "Oh my god! You can't go there. That's a very bad place for you."

"I know," he growled.

"Why?" she hissed at him, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Why would agree to go there?"

"Because she's going to be there," he said as if that were the most logical thing in the world. He looked around to make sure no one was listening. "And we're going to talk."

"There," she screeched and then looked around, dropping her voice again. "No! You can't go there to talk. _You_ and _there_ should never be anywhere _near_ the same conversation. Not if you want her to actually come back voluntarily."

"I know," he grumbled louder. "You don't think I've thought about that. I need your help. A much as that pains me…"

She put her hand to her forehead in dismay and then took a breath. "Ok." She swallowed. "I can fix this. I think." She chewed on her thumbnail for a second. "I'm going to need a fucking magic wand and some duct tape but I think I can make it work."

"Duct tape?" he looked at her oddly.

"Yeah, it's for your mouth," she griped at him.

Rolling his eyes, he looked at her in desperation. "I need to make this right. And fast."

Her face softened and she placed her hand on his arm. "I know. Don't worry. We will."

"Seriously, I need sex," he complained. "It keeps my head clear."

She frowned at him and rolled her eyes disgustedly. "I though that was Vicodin."

"Sex with her is better than Vicodin."

"I'll bet," she muttered and then picked at his wrinkled collar. "Why are you wearing a pink shirt?"

"What? I wear pink shirts," he protested. It was not his favorite shirt and it was hardly in his normal rotation. He wore it for her, simply because she liked pink. _God damn the things he was finding he'd do for that minx of a woman…_

Shaking her head, Cameron pursed her lips into a frown. "Pink on you… not so much," she declared. "I have an idea…"


	41. Chapter 41

The Gauntlet

Chapter 41

House swiped at Cameron's hand for like the fiftieth time as she fussed and fixed and picked and prodded at him. God, she was worse than his mother when he was a boy going to his grandmother's for Easter dinner. Blythe would dress him up in those ridiculous little suits and ties and he would always get in trouble because he'd gotten dirty. Grandma House was a woman who could not stand to have anything out of place. It was a nightmare.

"If you touch my hair one more time…" he threatened glaring at Cameron's reflection in his closet door mirror as he tucked his shirt tails into his pants.

Cameron had appointed herself his style advisor and had rushed out of the hospital as soon as her shift ended. She had gone on an impromptu shopping spree of seriously expensive proportions. He was stunned when she arrived at his place with Wilson dutifully in tow, carrying a new black blazer, new modern looking jeans, three new shirts, one in olive, one in black and one in deep purple along with a narrow black leather belt. All of it from Banana Republic. She had promptly ordered him to get naked and change which was slightly less exciting than it should have been and just as well because if he wore that damn navy blue sport coat and blue dress short one more time they might tell their own embarrassing stories from the first Bush era.

"Turn around, let me see, " she ordered, inspecting him. She bit her lip, appraising the situation and then shook her head decisively. '"No, too dorky. Pull it out."

Rolling his eyes, he yanked the hem out of his waistband and flattened it over the dark washed expertly faded jeans. "This is the last time. It stays out."

"Yeah, yeah," she murmured. "You'll do what I tell you." She ignored him and spun him around smoothing over the back of his tailored shirt and tugging on the bottom over his ass. He scowled at the oddity of this situation. Cameron in his bedroom, touching his ass and ordering him around. In another time not so long ago, this would have been a naughty dream come true.

"You better listen to her," Wilson called, chuckling from his spot in the living room where he was perched on the couch eating chips and drinking beer as he watched the start of the basketball game. House had never been so envious in all his life. He'd have given his right arm if he could just sit on the couch in his underwear with a beer and watch the game, well maybe not underwear with Wilson, but whatever, at this point. "She's pretty persuasive," his friend continued.

"She's a fucking nightmare is what she is," he hollered scratching at his stubble that he had neatened up with the beard trimmer.

"Do you want my help or not," she griped at him and spun him around again. "Put the jacket on."

Rolling his eyes so much that his retinas were getting tired, he grabbed the jacket off the end of the bed and slipped it onto his shoulders. It fit like it was made for him. "How the hell do you know my size?"

"I'm your stalker," she quipped as she straightened the discarded olive and purple shirts on the bed. "Considering that Wilson said that most of the jackets you wear are stolen from him I put two and two together and came up with 40 long."

"You're creepy," he muttered and turned around, tugging on his sleeves.

Cameron, bit her knuckle and let out a feral growl. "Oh my god!" she blinked a few times and raised her hands to adjust his collar from underneath his jacket. "If you had actually worn ironed shirts all those years, I think I would have jumped you right on the glass table in the middle of a DDX."

"Could you stop?" he begged. "Wilson's right in the other room and I'm trying to win my girlfriend back. Stop turning me on. It's confusing."

She giggled at him and spun him around again. He shook his head because he was getting dizzy. "You look fucking amazing! And like eight feet tall. Damn, I do good work."

He looked at himself in the mirror. Shaking his head, he had to admit he did look pretty good. The black shirt open at the collar, _untucked_, gave him a relaxed sexy kind of air, if he did say so himself, and the jeans were comfortable even though they were new. They fit close, but not in a bad way. And the black, crisp blazer tied it all together. Black on black on faded black washed denim. Very rock and roll. His same usual outfit, just modern and cool. A little AC DC _Back in Black_ echoed in his head and he nodded. Not bad.

"Ok, shoes," she started.

"Sneakers."

"You must have a pair of something that's not…"

"Sneakers."

"You're not going to wear..."

"Sneakers."

"To a fancy…"

"Sneakers."

She put her hand on her hip and glared at him. "No."

"I'm wearing sneakers. Period."

Licking her lips, she leveled her gaze at him. "Let me see what you've got and then I'll decide."

"You know, you're very bitchy and demanding when you're playing Fairy Godmother," he told her and limped down the hallway to the closet where he kept all of his sneakers.

"Cinderella didn't complain like you," she quipped taking a gander inside. "Grr… you have no cool shoes. Typical… Here these will have to do." She grabbed a pair of black and grey cross trainers with neon yellow detailing that wasn't garishly bright or overdone.

He took them from her and went to the couch to put them on.

Wilson looked him up and down. "Oh my god. Who are you?"

"Fuck off," he muttered.

Wilson snorted and sat up a bit to look him over again. "You actually look roguishly handsome. Rugged, tough, yet spiffy. Very GQ with the tousled hair."

House stood and adjusted his wallet in his back pocket. "Fuck off."

Cameron chuckled from behind the couch. He limped around and grabbed his keys from the hook by the door and pulled his cane with the flames down from the molding overhead. She followed him and adjusted his jacket a minute fraction yet again and he waved her off. She was like a gnat buzzing in his ear. However, he did appreciate all of her ministrations. She didn't have to do any of this for him.

Fixing his collar once more, Cameron looked him in the eye. "Now remember, if at any time you feel the need to tell her why you shouldn't be together say the exact _opposite_ of what you're thinking."

"I know what I want to tell her," he sighed and then frowned. "But you're probably right, I'll keep that in mind."

"You have your cell phone, right?" Wilson asked, coming up along side of her. "Mommy and Daddy are just a phone call away."

"Try not to drink all my beer," House ordered. "I may need that when I come back."

"It's a food tasting," Cameron reassured him. "It's just food, wine and some conversation."

"And don't have sex on my bed," he added. "Because that's just gross."

"Don't insult anybody, just eat and keep the drinking to a minimum," Wilson advised ignoring him. "And avoid hot topics like… well pretty much everything. Just eat, smile and nod and you'll be fine. And don't forget to tell her you're in love with her."

"You'll do great," Cameron said, kissing him on the cheek. "She's going to die when she sees you."

"Yeah, lets hope not," he said. He wanted her alive and well and back in his bed as soon as possible.

Wilson clapped him on the shoulder and he was out. If he fucked this up tonight, that would be the end of it for good. He was just going to have to fire her. Because he couldn't live with her around him if she wasn't his. Period.


	42. Chapter 42

The Gauntlet

Chapter 42

_A/N: A couple little pieces of business… I have cast the hottest blonde detective to walk the streets of New York, Carmine Giovanazzo, aka Danny Messer, as Teddy husband Steve and the sultry, confidently arrogant Kate Walsh (that's the red haired Cadillac commercial chick for those non Gray's fans) as the food critic. Gavin her photographer is just a cool looking Asian dude with an artistic photojournalistic flair and Paolo is a sexy Italy Italian (not Jersey Italian, there's a HUGE difference) with copious amounts of style. That said, hold onto your knickers kids… it's a wild ride._

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Remy adjusted the waves in her hair over her shoulders for the umpteenth time. She was nervous. He was coming tonight. And Teddy was going to be pissed. Because she hated him. Now more than ever.

Figuring it was best to not tell her friend that House was coming, Remy went home and showered again to make sure the smell of pee was gone. She could have killed Kutner for his bumbling stupidity. Praying that she didn't reek, waft or even hint like last week's cat litter, she picked out one of her own dresses and slipped it on. It was a hot little corset number in white satin with large black flowers all over making it like a vague abstract print, a little more white than black. Zipping up the back she leaned over and adjusted her boobs into the cups of the bustier and tugged at the bra-like straps to add the fullest advantage, making her look a little bigger in the chesticles department. She examined the roundness of her breasts as they arched over the top of the dress and nodded. Good, she had cleavage and lord knows how he liked cleavage. She sprayed her perfume down her new burgeoning asset and at her wrists before gently rubbing the excess off behind her ears to add a touch of scent there too. He always liked to linger there, sniffing at the skin behind her ears, tickling her with his beard. She figured she'd add a little extra incentive to take a whiff.

Sliding her strappy heels on, she put on a necklace. Something light with a little sparkle to contrast the smokiness she'd done on her eyes. It was really cold out but she didn't want to wear a heavy coat so she opted for her extra large cotton candy pink pashmina. Besides, pink seemed to be the order for the day. He'd make fun of her but that was ok. He wore a pink shirt for her today, so he had no room to talk.

She picked up her clutch and grabbed her keys. Taking a deep breath and one last look in the mirror she fluffed her hair again, pushed up the boobs once more for good luck and left.

It didn't take her long to get to _Café Spilletto_. She couldn't believe that Teddy was changing jobs again. Remy'd challenged her to open her own place and she goes and gets wooed by another restaurant. The woman would never settle down. Remy knew that it was because she loved the excitement of the drama of change; it was like she had something to prove. When others were running from change like the plague, Teddy would dive headlong into it. But then again, her best friend always was borderline insane. The parallels to House just kept getting stronger.

Pulling up along the curb, she pulled on the emergency break and turned off the engine. She was a little early, but that was fine because she might get a chance to see Teddy for a bit before he got there. A part of her wondered if he was actually going to show. These types of things were certainly not in his repertoire; they were hardly in hers. When he suggested that he come along, she didn't know what to say. She was stunned. Her heart squeezed at the fact that he was so willing to do whatever it took to win her back. It was sweet. However, this, this she wouldn't have forced on him for the world. Just the mere fact that he was interested in going was enough for her.

Over the years, she'd been to a quite a few of Teddy's jobs for various meals but not an actual planned food tasting. This was a first. She was kind of excited for Teddy to see her really showcasing her talents. But, she was equally as excited to see what House had to say to her. Of course, she was nervous too. He was unpredictable and she didn't know quite what to expect from their conversation.

Walking into the restaurant, she saw Teddy right away. She was by the bar with Steve and another man. Her friend was animatedly gesturing to a server in all black while she herself was in her pristine white chef's jacket and loud red and gold Aunt Jemima kerchief she wore over her little pigtails behind her ears. Teddy saw her immediately and waved her over.

"Don't you look delicious," Teddy said to her hugging her tightly in greeting.

Remy smiled and then turned to kiss Steve on the cheek. "Hey, Rem, good to see ya." Steve looked his usual odd blend of dangerous adorable in his wool blazer, aqua blue cashmere sweater vest over white shirt and distressed jeans capped off with his black Italian glasses. His blonde hair formed some kind of soaring spike in the front and his goatee screamed out 'I may look cute but don't fuck with me'. He was the perfect mate for her friend, passionately devoted but lovingly tough. He was good for Teddy because he didn't put up with her shit.

Teddy ushered Remy near the other man who was sitting casually at the bar. He was a dashing looking European gentleman with deep olive skin and thick dark hair. "Paolo, this is my dearest friend Remy." Remy held out her hand to shake adding a pleasant smile to the fortyish Italian man. "Remy, this is Paolo Giancarlo Vetti, owner of _Café Spilletto _and my greatest fan."

The man took her hand and gently between his warm ones and kissed her on the knuckles. "You are truly _bellisima_." Quickly Teddy's attention was diverted by another member of the wait staff who she directly gave instructions to.

Remy smiled brightly accepting Paolo's compliment as Steve leaned over and whispered into her ear while Teddy wasn't paying attention. "Careful, she's whoring you out tonight."

Remy's eyes widened as she turned to look at the shorter blond man. "What? Not tonight she's not."

He laughed and nodded. "Oh, she is."

"Fuck me, who is that sexy beast that just walked in," Teddy exclaimed as she turned to look toward the front of the restaurant. "Honey, I think I need a divorce."

All eyes turned to the door but Remy already knew who had just walked in. The only sexy beast she knew who was scheduled to arrive was the one and only House. In two point five seconds, Teddy was going to realize exactly who he was and she was going to go ballistic.

"Oh shit! You didn't. You did not invite that son of a bitch to come here?" Teddy railed and Remy swallowed. "Not tonight, Remy! I need you."

"I did," she stated. "And I'm here for you, but he's here for me."

Remy watched House approach looking like he belonged on the cover of a men's style magazine. He was sex personified and he took her breath away. Remy grabbed onto the back of the barstool to ground herself because she almost melted into a puddle on the floor. He was the same but different. His clothes, hot. His hair, messy, but hot. He was scruffy and rough, but polished. And his eyes stood out like ice crystals in the moonlight. Fuck. He was gorgeous. Utterly strip him down naked and fuck him until she could breathe sexy, gorgeous. _My god_…

"Whoa," she muttered under her breath as he approached her with that little smirk on his face that made his eyes sparkle.

Stepping over to her, he leaned over and kissed her lips. "You look absolutely beautiful," he spoke so only she could hear. Remy held onto his arms encased in that really nice jacket and let herself linger in his aura. When she pulled back, he let his hand drift down around her waist keeping her near him and staking his claim. A tingle of electricity went through her and she clasped onto his fingers, letting him know that that was exactly where she wanted him to be.

"Everyone this is my friend Dr. Greg House," Remy introduced him. Unfortunately, he had to let go of her to switch his cane to his left hand so he could shake hands with the men in greeting. She introduced Steve and Paolo first leaving Teddy until last. "House, this is my best friend Teddy." Remy fixed her with a stare that said in no uncertain terms that she was to be gracious and polite.

"I'd like to say it's a pleasure to finally meet you but she's told me _so much_ about you already, I feel like I know _exactly_ who you are," Teddy said pointedly, with an acerbic smile and her hands on her hips not bothering to take his hand.

House laughed and Remy could see the retort brewing in his eyes. "I'm sure," he replied and switched his cane back to his right hand curling his fingers back around Remy's waist pulling her in close. A few seconds passed. The retort never came. Remy looked at him and then at Teddy who appeared slightly miffed that he didn't verbally engage her. He merely smiled at Teddy, almost challenging her to say something inappropriate.

"So you're a doctor, huh?" Steven jumped in good-naturedly, cutting off his wife's incoming volley with his Brooklyn accent effectively shattering the tension with the brusqueness of his verbal cadence.

House turned to him. "Yep."

"Are you the cancer doc that Rem was talking about?" he asked.

"No," he replied. "Diagnostician. Patients come to us with weird medical problems that no one else can figure out."

"I see," Steven nodded.

"You are like a medical detective, no?" Paolo inquired.

"I guess so," House said with a shrug. "And what is it that you do? Because obviously the guy with the heavy Italian accent owns this place," he said looking around the restaurant. Paolo nodded and toasted him with his drink.

"I build bikes," Steven told him nonchalantly.

Remy watched House's face frown in curiosity. "Bikes? What kind of bikes?"

"Custom choppers, sport bikes," he elaborated humbly.

House nodded obviously impressed. "Get out. Really? I have a Honda CBR1000RR."

"Nice," Steven nodded.

"Steve's a badass," Teddy said. It was a jab directed at House. "He rides choppers not those pussy crotch rockets."

Steve grinned and clapped House on the shoulder. "Something tells me House, here is a badass too."

Remy laughed. "Yeah, you could call it that."

Paolo rose from his barstool and immediately descended upon a couple as they approached fawning over them in a rush of sensual Italian. House was blocking Remy's view so she couldn't see who they were but Teddy immediately put on her chef persona and grabbed Remy's hand. "I don't care what she says to you, you smile, you nod and you look at her like she is the sexiest, most important thing in the world. I need you to do this for me." She turned menacingly to House and got right up in his face. "And you let her do what she needs to do or so help me God, I'll cut your balls off and serve them to you in a bouillabaisse, understand?"

House looked back at her stunned for a second. "Okay," he drew out carefully, thoroughly confused. Remy had a sick feeling she knew exactly who this was who was joining their party.

"Theodora, darling," the sultry voice came from behind House shoulder. Remy turned and finally got a full view of the owner of that voice. She closed her eyes and swallowed. This was bad, so very bad.

"Madeline," Teddy cooed. "So good of you to come. You remember my husband Steven."

All eyes focused on the woman who demanded attention with every move she made. Madeline Ellis, editor-in-chief of _Food and Wine_, the woman who could make or break careers with the evil swipe of a misplaced review. She had brought her photographer with her, Gavin Kwan, famous in the restaurant world in his own right for his food porn as Remy liked to call it. Remy whispered this to House explaining who these people were as re-acquaintances were being made.

Madeline finally stepped over to Remy and air kissed her on both cheeks in the French style. She stepped back and fully appraised her with her dark round eyes. "You are every bit as delectable as I remembered."

Remy smiled, brilliantly and took in the woman's elegant persona. She was dressed in a slim, winter white pants suit and her deep auburn hair was coiffed in a sharply angled, shoulder length bob. Her jewelry tasteful, her makeup flawless and her perfume just subtle enough to make it known that it was French and very expensive. "Madeline, it's been a while."

"Three years ago, this past New Year's Eve to be exact," she reminded her coyly.

Remy grinned. "You remembered."

Madeline clasped her hand. "Who could forget darling." She punctuated her statement with a wink and turned her attention to House. "And who is this yummy specimen?"

Remy braved a glance at House and grimaced at the extremely curious expression on his face. He had been blessed with a new piece to her puzzle and it was going to bug him until he knew exactly what was going on here. "Madeline, this is Dr. Gregory House."

House let go of Remy again and shook the food diva's hand. Madeline quickly assessed the situation and gave him a challenging grin. "Charming. Well, I see you and I have similar tastes, Doctor. Impressive."

House chuckled at her and tossed her challenge right back. "Maybe you and I should get together and compare notes then?"

Madeline gave him a throaty chuckle. "Oh, I bet you do have some stories to tell."

"Now, come on, didn't your mother ever teach you to never kiss and tell?" he smirked at her.

Placing her finely manicured hand on his chest, she leaned in closely running her fingers up the front of his shirt. "Darling, that's my mantra."

"All righty then," Teddy interjected and held her hands out to corral the group. "Now that everyone is here, I will have Alyssa show you to your table." A tall young blonde woman appeared out of nowhere in a black hostess's dress and directed the party down the three steps to the sunken dining floor.

Remy grabbed House's arm and lingered back a bit. He looked at her with an amused smirk. "You want to clue me in to what's going on?"

Sighing, she bit her lip in a grimace. "Please, please, please, don't ask me questions right now about what's going on here."

He laughed and stepped closer to her pulling her against him. "I think I know exactly what's going on."

Remy placed her hands on his shoulders and breathed in his closeness. _God, it felt so good to be held by him again_. "It's not totally what you think."

"No?" he arched his eyebrow at her. "So you guys didn't have some kind of hot lesbian fling on New Year's Eve and now your best friend plans to whore you out for a good review on her new job?"

Remy laughed nervously. "Ok, so it's exactly what you think."

"Oh yes!" He threw his head back in rapture and she could only imagine the visions swirling around in his head.

"No!" Remy amended quickly. "It's not like that anymore. It was just a thing."

"Sorry to say there, Sweet Cheeks, but you can never be 'just a thing'." He leveled his eyes at her and fixed her with a stare that told her way more than the words of his jest did. She meant more to him than just a fling. That thought, that very knowledge made her heart soar.

"Then you're ok with all of… this?" she asked carefully.

"Ok with this?" he grinned. "I'm thinking we should run off the Vegas and get married because I'm so in love with you right now."

Remy laughed and patted her hand on his arm. "Ha! You're funny."

"I'm serious," he said and then cocked his head to the side with a smirk. "Well, half-serious."

"Which part?" she asked wide-eyed.

"The in love with you part," he stated.

Thank God, he was holding onto her because Remy would have toppled over into a heap of shock.

He loved her. _Oh my fucking God! He loved her_.

Remy couldn't breathe. She was floored. Smiling at her, he stole her last ounce of breath when he kissed her swiftly and precisely dipping his tongue in like a devastating strike sealing the deal. He loved her. Remy's inner girl screamed with sheer unadulterated glee as her mind swam with all that his declaration meant.

Suddenly, as fast as his kiss began, he was away from her tugging her hand, leading her down to the table. Having no choice but to follow him, she did.

He loved her. He loved her. He. Loved. Her.

Talk about unpredictable. This guy was like tsunami wave. In one fell swoop, he'd knocked her off her feet and changed the landscape of her world to one of immense proportions.

Greg House loved her. And now she had to flirt openly in front of him with a woman he just discovered she'd had a bi-sexual tryst with. _Oh, if Remy had actually stopped to think about it, the insanity of it all might just overwhelm her…_


	43. Chapter 43

The Gauntlet

Chapter 43

Ok. So it wasn't necessarily the most romantic way to tell someone that he was in love with them but, it was better than pushing her down on the playground and jamming a frog in her face like he did with Laura Bishop in the fourth grade. Somehow, House figured that Thirteen could appreciate this way more. He hadn't really intended to tell her at all tonight, but it was out there now and he couldn't take it back. She was so beautiful, so alluring, so fucking hot in that dress with her cleavage and that intoxicating perfume that she made him irrevocably stupid. All the time. Fuck… He had said more dumb things in the past month or so since this whole flirtation started than he'd said in years. Years. Well, at the very least, he figured he'd made two women happy tonight. Cameron, for actually saying what he was supposed to say instead of being an ass and stomping on Thirteen's feelings for him like a bug and Thirteen, for well… actually saying what he was supposed to say instead of being an ass and stomping on her feelings for him like a bug. Telling her he loved her, here at this damn restaurant, the irony of it all was just so… fitting.

_Thirteen_… everyone called her Remy. Her friends, acquaintances… lesbian trysts. He was so giddy over that he couldn't even get into it at the moment. They all knew her as Remy. But to him she was Thirteen. It was odd because he knew her, how she was with him and the team, but there were parts of her he had no idea about. The part of her that was called Remy.

It was only yesterday that he had called her Remy and she had essentially smacked him down for it. He supposed it was because she was still angry and hurt about his supreme stupidity. He didn't blame her. Using someone's name was like owning a piece of them. There was an intimacy about it and at that moment, while he wanted so much to show her how badly he felt about what he had done, he really had no right to reach out and touch her soul like that. They had never used each other's names, even in the heat of passion in their most intimate moments. His calling her Remy in that moment over stepped a boundary he wasn't privy to at the time. He wondered now, if she would welcome it and if he'd ever get used to saying it. Even now, it felt strange sitting unspoken behind his lips. But these people knew her as that and it intrigued him.

Looking around the table, House took in the curious lot of people gathered together. He was by far not the weirdest in the bunch. In fact, he was the most normal out of the group and that said a lot. Paolo was Italian so that made him stand out in any crowd. No American ever really had the right to be that suave. The photographer, he'd forgotten his name already, was the lost Asian Backstreet Boy, complete with the blonde tipped spiked hair. Clearly gay, which was completely appropriate considering that the lesbian cougar brought him. And what the fuck was that? She was a hot, sophisticated bitch and was outrageously flirting with his woman as if he weren't sitting right there across the table from her while she did it. He couldn't even imagine what had attracted Thirteen that woman unless it had to do with a whole lot of a little Mexican man named Jose Cuervo. She just didn't seem to be her…type? And then there was Steve. Completely out of place with this company, but then again so was he. He seemed cool enough though, like House could drink beer with him, play pool, talk smack and maybe win some money.

But Teddy… Teddy clearly hated him. This didn't shock him, nor did it really dawn on him to care. She was bold and brassy and if she wasn't Thirteen's friend, or married, she'd be the kind of girl he'd like to toss around the hay a few times until her big mouth pissed him off and he'd have to kick her ass to the curb. Her husband had to have had a stronger constitution than him to actually be married to her, and that House admired Steve for without even having to get to know him. It took a guy who knew where his balls were to put up with a woman like that. However, she was protective of Thirteen and for that House could learn to tolerate her. Even if she did threaten to cut off his package and feed it to him in a shi shi French soup.

They finished their antipasti of oil cured sharp olives, balsamic marinated artichoke hearts, prosciutto, grilled asparagus, and aged provolone cheese. Paolo, who also happened to be a sommelier, which was really just a fancy word for wine expert, had paired the first course with a _Bertani Velante_ Pinot Grigio. The white wine was crisp, clean and ice cold. Never a huge wine aficionado, it was interesting to hear the man talk about how the fruity, citrus overtones picked up and accentuated the sharp flavor of the food. It was delicious indeed; Teddy may have been a psycho bitch but she sure knew how to cook. House hadn't eaten good food like this since some of those ridiculous $500 a plate fundraisers he had to go to with Stacey for her office. If it weren't for the useless people around Thirteen and him, he could get used to eating like a king all the time.

The antipasto was cleared and the next course of pasta was brought out. The server, Marco, described it as a mancotti stuffed with chorizo, ricotta and spinach in a creamy white sauce. The plates came with a single tube of the handmade stuffed pasta, drizzled with sauce and garnished with a piece of green that someone had recognized as cilantro. Paolo rose and poured the wine while the photographer shot stills of the new course before everyone was allowed to eat.

"For this I have selected a _Chateau de Maligny_ Chablis, vintage 2006," he explained. "Notice the mango and citrus accents that merge into a round, energetic flavor, to complement the spice of the chorizo and the hint of smoked _pimentón _in the cream sauce."

Sitting directly to his right, Thirteen leaned over and touched her nose to his ear. "Sounds incredible but wouldn't you rather chug back a beer?" He chuckled and slid his eyes in her direction as her breath and lips grazed the sensitive skin of his neck. _God, she was electric_. His little smile told her he'd rather pour the cream on her stomach and lick it off all the way down to her thighs right now. She giggled quietly back at him pulled away taking a sip of her wine.

"So darling, tell me what you've been up to since I saw you last," Madeline interrupted his thoughts drawing away Thirteen's attention to him with a sultry smile.

House felt Thirteen's hand curl around his bad thigh. Her fingers rested in between his legs and he found it difficult to concentrate. She wasn't down by his knee but rather in the middle hovering just beyond the line of appropriateness in public. Thank God, the tablecloth was long and he was in pretty close to the table because he might poke himself in the eye with the raging erection he had going on. Forcing himself to breathe, he took a bite of the spicy creamy pasta and took a sip of the wine focusing on the mango, fruity citrus whatevers as he listened to her reply to Madeline's inquiry.

"I worked in the Clinical Virology Department at Hackensack Medical Center for two years," she told her. House vaguely remembered reading that on her resume. He had consulted a couple of times with Dr. Munk over the West Nile Virus a few years back. Munk had nothing but great things to say about her when he'd called for a reference.

"Hackensack, prestigious," Madeline went on. "Didn't we attend a fundraiser there with the baseball players? Oh yes, and Derek Jeter was there. Remember? Shame, that one."

"Shame how?" Steven questioned.

"Gayer than Michael Jackson darling," she waved at him dismissively.

"Derek Jeter is not gay," Steven stated vehemently shaking his head. "Uh, uh. No way, no how."

"Please, no straight man has an ass that fine and can move it the way he does," Madeline stated with a wave of a finger. The photographer nodded his confirmation and Steve bristled like a porcupine. House didn't really care, but was amused by his irritation, and he was sure Paolo had no inclination either way, being Italian and probably more into soccer than baseball.

"The Captain of the Yankees is not gay," Steve denied, clearly affronted by her condemnation of his favorite baseball player.

Thirteen nodded in affirmation after swallowing her food. "We danced. He kissed me. It was all for show." She frowned apologetically at her friend and he shifted in his seat.

House slid her a glance at her newest admission and shook his head. "You kissed Derek Jeter?"

"Yes," she flicked her big eyes at him and gave him a devilish smile. "Such a disappointment."

"You're all liars," Steve shook his head, clearly in disgruntled denial.

"You're a little minx," House said, amazed by the things he was finding out from this dinner adventure.

"Ah, but think Doctor, had the ball player been all that he promised to be, this blossoming love you share would not be possible," Paolo interjected from his end of the table.

"How long have you been an item?" Madeline pushed, sipping her wine. "Are we to assume that Remy is, shall we say, off the market?"

House tensed and he could feel the retort elevating in him to tell her to butt-the-fuck out of his business. Thirteen smoothed her hand over his thigh, sensing his disquiet and smiled at the woman. "Yes. I am off the market."

"Pity," she replied with a coy smirk. "I do so enjoy your company." She sighed airily and leveled her rich dark eyes at House. "Lucky is the man who wins the heart of such an enticing young woman. However, I suspect you are well worth the commitment."

Thirteen gave him a slow smile and stared into his eyes. "Oh, he is."

Madeline inhaled a deep and audible breath and let it out on a heavy sigh. "Paolo, we're going to need a splash of 2006 _Chateau Cantemerle_ Bordeaux to put out my flames. These two are absolutely smoldering."

Thankful that someone came to bus the table, House finished this particular glass of wine and settled into a comfortable silence anchored by Thirteen's nearness to him. He listened to her talk freely with the group about mundane things that held no interest for him. He had nothing to offer to the conversation so he sat with his arm around the back of her chair, absently tracing circles on her shoulder and up the back of her neck as she talked. Her fingers held their position over his thigh and he was barely aware of his pain as her hand brought heat to his thigh. He hadn't taken any Vicodin since before he left and the twinge was starting to make itself known again. Removing his bottle from his jacket pocket he thumbed off the lid and tipped two into his mouth. Without even pausing in her story about a guy she had met who was selling incense and t-shirts on the street, she instinctively handed him a glass of water and continued talking. He was a little unnerved by how quickly they had settled into a routine of caring for one another.

Madeline narrowed her eyes at him in blatant curiosity. "What did you just take?"

"Vicodin," he stated.

"For your leg?" she pressed. "If I may be so bold…"

House opened his mouth but Thirteen cut him off. "Shark attack while rescuing children in the tsunami." He slid a curious glance at her for her outrageous lie and she tossed back an irritated stare. She was being protective of him because the food critic had stepped into territory that was none of her business and it thoroughly pissed her off. Loving her more now for her fierceness over him, he gave her an appreciative smile and turn his cool gaze to the woman diagonally across from him.

"Infarction," he said plainly. "Like a heart attack but in my thigh. Blood flow was cut off for days resulting in muscle death and pain that on good days makes you want to die."

Madeline didn't even flinch at his description. "Could it have killed you?" she asked him curiously.

"Yes," he replied. Thirteen leaned her shoulder in closer to him unifying her presence with his. His hand remained on her neck possessively linking her to him. This was the first time she was hearing the story of his leg, as well. It seemed to be a night of truth telling.

"Then I'd say you should have quite an appreciation for the finer things in life," Madeline stated rather succinctly, eyeing him over her wine glass.

"I do," he shrugged. "I guess as much as anyone."

"Cigars, fine aged scotch, long passionate kisses, sex that lasts for hours," she enumerated coyly. He watched her carefully as she flirted with him overtly. She was annoying him with her blatant come ons to both him and Thirteen. He could tell where she was heading with this and he was distinctly not interested.

"Who doesn't like all of those things with the right _individual_," he responded, trailing his fingers down the delicate bumps in Thirteen's spine letting her know that despite his initial reaction to the news of her bisexuality, he was, in no uncertain terms, uninterested in a threesome with this crazy she-devil. Thirteen turned her face to him and gave him a little smile. He pressed a kiss to her temple ignoring that insipid stare from Madeline.

The wait staff came with the meat course accompanied by Teddy this time. "How is everyone enjoying the food?"

Paolo rose and kissed each one of her hands as if they were a work of art. "Semplicemente favoloso, cara mia - simply fabulous, my love."

"Hey, _cara mia_, ba fangul," Steve swore at him grumpily from his end of the table. "Keep your ginzo hands off my wife." Paolo chuckled and lifted his wine glass in mock-toast. He said something in a blur of Italian and Steve shifted in his seat to look pointedly at Thirteen. "He thinks I'm kidding. I'll kick his Venetian loafer wearing ass."

Thirteen laughed at him. "I think everything is fair game tonight."

Steve leaned in closer to them while Paolo, Teddy and Madeline gushed about the food as the photographer shot more pictures. "Seriously man, you trip the bitch with your cane and her botoxed face'll crack in half and then give me back up on this mother fucker while I beat the shit out of him and tonight will be golden."

House laughed as the server put a plate of food in front of him. "I don't know…I'm a little slow out of the gate."

"Yeah but I'm scrappy and what I make up for in speed you got in reach, so I think we can take 'em," Steve conspired excitedly.

Thirteen tapped House in the chest with the backs of her knuckles to pay attention because she had to move out of his person space circle so she could eat. Teddy's voice was relaying the description of their next meal, "… port braised rack of lamb with tarragon with double contorni of puree of fennel and celery root with roasted garlic and baby carrots tossed in a whole grain spicy mustard vinaigrette."

"Theodora, you have outdone yourself," Madeline cooed and House had a vision of her going splat on the sidewalk, cracking like a frozen turkey. Steve caught his eye and the two had to look away so they didn't bust out laughing like teenagers trying to behave at a formal event. His Vicodin was starting to kick in with the wine and he was feeling good. And who could have predicted, he had made a friend.

The rest of the meal passed with boring conversation now that it was evident an orgy of Roman proportions was not going to occur anytime soon and they were onto desert. Each person had a small sampling of Chocolate Amaretto Mousse Torte and a Fig layer cake with honey butter cream. House and Steve had ordered and espresso with Black Sambuca while the rest nursed small snifters of Amaretto. It was finally time to go and if House hadn't been sitting in a dining chair for three hours straight, he would have hightailed it out of there dragging Thirteen behind him like the proverbial caveman back to his bed. However, she was obligated to make her goodbyes.

Madeline approached him and gave him a subtle shake of the head indicating that she was conceding defeat. "Have a wonderful evening, Doctor. It was a pleasure." She turned to Thirteen and leaned forward placing a lingering kiss on her lips. "Remy, until we meet again."

"Goodbye Madeline," Thirteen bid with that mysterious air she wore so well. House was turned on by the exchange, because simply, he was a red-blooded man with a healthy libido. He couldn't help but stare.

The red head turned elegantly on her heal and actually snapped her fingers at the photographer for him to follow her out. Shaking his head, House was glad to watch her go. She had to be the most arrogant woman he'd ever met in his life. And if it weren't for Thirteen and her desire to help her friend, he would have unleashed his full court salvo at her and blistered her pompous fake ass.

"Whatever you did, it was absolutely perfect," Teddy went on as she came up to Thirteen and squeezed her in a bear hug. "She was ecstatic."

"Don't ever do that to me again," Thirteen stepped out her arms. Teddy began to laugh but she stood her ground. "I'm serious Teddy. I have enough shit going on that I don't need to be dredging through my sordid past so you can get a review that you are perfectly capable of getting on your own." Clasping House's fingers in hers, she leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on her friend's cheek. "I love you, but I'm mad at you right now." She tugged him forward and kissed Steve on the cheek. "Bye, Steve. Paolo…" she added a little wave.

Steve stepped forward and shook hands with House. "Come by one day, I'll show you some of the bikes I have in the shop and we'll go for a ride."

House nodded. "Will do."

Teddy rolled her eyes. "What are you two like friends now?"

"Yeah, got a problem," he retorted at his wife. The way he was looking at her made her melt. She quickly relented her attitude and said, "Fine whatever… thank you for coming."

House blinked, stunned by the effect Steve had on his wife. Maybe she was tamable. "Everything was excellent. Thank you," House told her.

Thirteen looked at him strangely and pulled on his arm. "Oh my God, let's go."

She dragged him out of the restaurant. As soon as they hit the sidewalk and were clear of the door, she pulled him into her arms and kissed him like she needed him to live. House was stunned for a moment but quickly pulled her into his arms letting her tongue invade his mouth with her sensual, languid movements that he craved. When they could no longer actually breathe, she pulled away and held her keys up to his face.

"Drive…"


	44. Chapter 44

The Gauntlet

Chapter 44

_A/N: Serious smut warning! Call 911 because my keyboard just burst into flames! Sex, love and a tiny bit of humor and romance. Enjoy!_

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Remy rolled her head against the headrest of the passenger seat of her car and just stared uninhibitedly at House's profile as he drove. He was like a big sexy giant in her tiny little car. She smiled a little thinking about the first time he saw it and called it a roller skate when they took it to pick up takeout for dinner one night. Of course he was too big for it. He was 6 feet 2 inches of lean, mean man and it was a girly mini cooper in beige, only because the car didn't come in pink. It was totally stupid and completely damsel in distress, but she liked it when he drove her car. It was like they were real couple, doing real couple things. It turned her on like there was no tomorrow. Tonight, they weren't going for food. Nope, they'd just done that and had their fill. Tonight, he was driving her home and they were going have explosive, well deserved make-up sex. The interior of the little car practically hummed with anticipation that arced like an electric current between them and she could barely contain herself watching the seemingly mundane way his hand caressed the gearshift as he down shifted into fourth gear.

One of her favorite Dave Matthews CD had looped around to the beginning again and played quietly in the background. _Dreamgirl_ was on and she thought about how she and House could be like the couple Dave was singing about. They could be that kind of best friends and lovers; where she was the girl that he dreamt about, loved and lusted after and then would wake up make love to after a deep sleep. Maybe they too would lay in the grass in the middle of a hot afternoon and he'd envision following the sweat with his tongue as it rolled down her spine. It was sexy and Remy wanted that simple purity of just reveling in each other. His eyes found hers in the moonlit interior of the car and set her skin ablaze with their white-hot intensity as he heard the lyric too. He was thinking the same exact thing as she was.

Reaching out, she traced her finger long the shell of his ear and down the side of his neck under the edge of his shirt collar feeling the teasing heat of his skin. He brought his eyes to hers again and searched her for a second but he had to bring his attention back to the road or they were going to crash. Smiling at how she affected him, Remy took the opportunity the study the lines of his face again in the moonlight. He was so handsome it made her heart ache.

Remy chuckled and pressed the back of her hand to her lips for a moment. If she didn't calm herself down a bit, she was going to come apart at the seams the second he touched her. They were about two minutes out from her apartment building and she could already feel her breath quickening. Thankfully, he finally pulled the car into her parking spot at last. He was out of the car in a flash. She gathered her purse and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders preparing to get out but he surprised her by coming around to her side opening her door. She barely had to rise out of the car before he grabbed her and crashed his lips to hers. His arousal pressed against her stomach and she bucked against him, clutching him to her like he was a lifeline and she was drowning in deep water as he kissed her. His mouth was not gentle. He was violently, passionately aggressive and she knew she had pushed him to the limits of his sanity with her teasing. His hands were all over her, in her hair, on her breasts, down her back and on her ass. His lips slanted down her throat scratching her with his beard. He was insatiable, stealing her breath as she panted against his neck. Though it had really only been a week, it felt like they had been apart for an eternity.

Another car pulled in the parking lot and he growled in frustration lifting his head as if coming to from a daze. His chest rose and fell as he breathed in the cold air locking his eyes on hers, his desire for her reaching a precipice that threatened to shatter his last bit of resolve if he didn't have her right now.

"Inside," he said pulling her away from the car and slamming the door shut. Somewhere in the echoes of her mind she heard the beep of her car locking behind them as he half-limped, half-dragged her to the front of her building and into the lobby, up the elevator where he practically consumed her with another round of soul-numbing kisses that made her legs weak.

They reached her front door and she dug in her tiny purse for her keys. Her hands shook she was fumbled around her wallet and lipstick. _Damnit there was so much shit in this little bag_. Just as she grabbed hold of the key, his hands came around her waist to the front of her stomach and his lips peppered kisses along the length of her shoulder. Automatically she moved her head to the side so that he had better access to her neck. _Oh god, she loved it when he kissed her there._ Swaying into him, she reached up behind her to graze her fingers over the back of his neck. His lips were like magic on her skin, smooth and electric in his urgency.

"Sometime today, please," he murmured against her jaw.

"Stop distracting me," she returned. She slipped the key in as he ground his hips against her. _Fuck, he was like concrete behind her_… Turning the key, the lock clicked under her fingers and she pushed the door open crossing the threshold into her darkened apartment, the only light coming from the dim counter light in her kitchen.

Dropping her shawl, bag and keys on the floor, she turned to him and he devoured her with his lips on her mouth again. They turned around and around coming into the room as they groped at each other tugging on their clothing to be free of the annoying fabric barrier between them. Remy jammed her hands inside his jacket pushing it from his strong shoulders as he dipped his head to run his tongue down the pulse hammering in her neck. They teetered a bit loosing balance causing them to crash into the pillar between the kitchen and the living room. His arms struggled getting caught up in the fabric and he growled in frustration as he had to break contact with her to remove the jacket. Balling it up, he threw it away and then made quick work of the buttons at his cuffs before he tugged the back of his shirt over his head and removed that too while he was at it.

Seeing his bare chest before her in the moonlight, she moaned and dragged her fingernails down his pectoral muscles to his ribs following the path of her fingers with her lips. He was so beautifully lean and strong; his arms and torso taught and muscled hidden underneath his baggy shirts he always wore. His stomach tightened and flinched as she bent low to run her lips across the path of hair that dipped below the dangerously sexy low slung waistband of his jeans. Pulling her back up he captured her lips, kissing her again and again shoving her back against the pillar. Pausing, he stared into her eyes for a long moment. His eyes flashed over with desire and lust and he was determined to have her right there against the wall. A rush of pleasure coursed through her and she licked her lips welcoming his passion for her. Whatever she had to do, they would make it work.

She twined her fingers behind his neck and pulled her too him, kissing him, taunting him, nipping at his lips with her teeth. He thrust his hand up the hem of her skirt to caress her bottom but her dress was too tight and he pulled out his hand in aggravation. Dragging his lips from her, he spun her around and pulled at the zipper. She felt the fabric fall open exposing her breasts to the slight chill in the air. Her nipples peaked and his hands came to cup both of her breasts pulling her back against his chest as his thumbs and forefingers pinched at the sensitive buds sending sparks of pleasure that charged through her body. She cried out and leaned against him lacing her hand behind her again, pulling at his hair as he sucked on her neck. It vaguely registered that that was going to leave a mark but she didn't care. He was so fucking amazing that she could barely recall her name right now. All she could think about was his hands on her making the wetness pool in between her legs. She needed him inside her right now or she was going to lose her mind.

She turned around and stepped out of her dress and panties and kicked her shoes off while he pulled his belt from its buckle giving her access to the button on his jeans. His hands rose up and continued to tease her, tracing the outline of her arms and shoulders and the curve of her hips. Slipping the button from its hole, his zipper opened on its own from the strain of his arousal pushing against the front of his jeans. He was so hot for her she could barely stand it. He was like liquid fire before her and she couldn't help but walk into the flame.

His lips found hers again burning her as his tongue delved deep into her mouth. She loved how he touched her. His hands on her skin, his lips on her mouth, his touch, his scent, his breath. All of it, she craved.

Tearing her mouth from his, she grabbed his face with both of her hands and looked into his eyes.

"I love you."

She had never said that to anyone before, never in her life had she felt such an intensity of feeling for anyone. Only him. _He was the one_.

His chest rose and fell as his breath matched the pounding of her heart against her chest. His eyes smoldered at her admission and he grabbed her too him. Lifting her, he pushed her back against the wall and yanked his pants down. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clawed at his shoulders. She was so wet for him he entered her in one swift stroke. Remy arched into him throwing her head back against the wall. "Jesus… God!"

He groaned against her neck and let out a carnal laugh at her gasp, pleased that he was driving her insane. She was out of control and he was her only salvation. He smiled at her his eyes locked on hers, loving the feel of her. He began to drive upward into her, his hips angling into her rubbing her as he hit just right spot. She practically sang out in pleasure as he pounded her into the wall, pumping harder and faster. His muffled groans against her neck stoked her lust for him and she cried out, moaning in pleasure as he plunged further and further into her with every thrust. She rode him matching him stroke for stroke as he consumed her, her mind emptying of everything but him. It was the sweetest torture, pooling within her rising to a crescendo. She could feel her release coming fast and furiously. "Ahhh! House… God yes, yes, yes!"

An intense ecstasy rose in her like an electric tidal wave as her climax crested and pulsed, rocketing though her body. Every muscle in her clamped down on him as she spun out of control almost pushing him away as she convulse around him. He thrust into her harder and faster until his arched into her. "Ahhh fuck!" He shouted in her ear, grunting as his own orgasm shuddered within him, pouring into her.

Suddenly, only she sound of their breathing filled the space around them. Coming down slowly from the euphoria, they panted into the skin of each other's necks, their sweat mingling together in the embers of their lovemaking, neither one wanting to let go. Remy hugged him to her, threading her fingers in his damp hair as she dotted his face with kisses. He rested his forehead against hers as he cupped her ass strongly, amazingly still holding her against the wall. His breathing was labored and she could tell that he was about to give out. Planting a kiss on his nose, she unhooked her legs from his back and placed her feet on the floor as he slipped out of her, the evidence of the fact they hadn't used a condom warmly dripping down her thigh. It was strangely comforting, like she had been branded forever his. Trying to step back, his feet were caught in his pants down around his ankles and he almost toppled over. She reached out for him to stabilize him and he grabbed onto her hand gratefully, laughing unabashedly at his lack of grace. She curled into him and they laughed together as he kicked off his sneakers and stepped out of his pants.

He smiled and leaned against the table taking off his socks because they were the last article of clothing he had on before pulling her into his arms. He kissed her tenderly and then began to laugh as his eyes slid to look at the surface they were leaning on. "This would have been much more helpful."

Remy grinned at him. "I don't know, I think the wall served its purpose."

His laugh rumbled from deep in his chest against hers reaching out to bring her a peaceful bliss. "Except now I need some serious Vicodin." Remy went to step out of his arms to find his pills but he pulled her back, curling his arms around her back. "Wait." He brought his hand to her face and brushed a piece of her hair away from her cheek. His eyes grew serious but there was a joy there that nearly brought tears to her eyes. "I love you," he said. "I just wanted to say it properly, at least once."

Remy's heart squeezed in her chest and she closed her eyes leaning into his hug. It was real. All of it was true. It wasn't a dream. He loved her and she loved him.

Pulling back from him, she placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "Go get into bed and I'll go find your pills."

He ran his hand gently over her ass before smacking it with a devilish chuckle, nodding as he pushed off the table and began to hobble slowly towards her bedroom holding his thigh with his hand. Remy watched his naked form go and she sighed in contentment amazed at how she was ready to make love to him yet again after such mind blowing ecstasy.

She picked up their clothes and shook his jacket to find his Vicodin. Smoothing the wrinkles out, she hung it on the back of the chair and reached into the pocket take out the bottle. Her fingers touched something cool and out of curiosity she took it out. It was her key ring. He had brought it to return to her. Her heart swelled with emotion and she put it back where she found it. He could give it to her when he was ready.

Grabbing a glass of water, she went into the bedroom to find him lying in bed with lazy grin on his face. All of her pillows were strewn about on the floor and she frowned a pout at him. "Hey. What'd you do to all my pillows?"

"There's way too many pillows and they're foofy," he said leaning back with his arm over his head and the sheet sliding down his stomach to that enticing path of hair that made her wild. _Good God, no man had a right to be that sexy. Christ… She was one lucky woman._

Remy realized that they had never actually stayed at her place and he looked kind of out of place in her frilly bed, all masculine sex juxtaposed against her girly, pink flowered sheets. Maybe it was time to go for something a little more subdued. She placed his water and pills on her night table and motioned for him to move over. Forgoing the water, he palmed two pills and dry swallowed them, like he usually did. She nudged him with her knee wanting to get in on her side. He refused to move and instead grabbed her, pulling her over his lap and flipping her down on her back on the other side of him. Apparently he had regained some of his strength back. She giggled as he leaned over and kissed her neck, inhaling a long trail down in between her breasts. "God, I love that smell!"

Somewhere, her inner adult recognized that it was going on midnight. She pushed at his shoulders. "If you're going to insist on sleeping on that side, you have to set the alarm so we can go to work tomorrow."

He shook his head. "No sleeping." His tongue drew lazy circles around her nipples causing her to arch up against his mouth with a gasp.

"We have a patient," she said distractedly, raking her fingers through his hair as his mouth and tongue slipped down to her stomach.

"Not any more." He nipped and licked and sucked in between his words, renewing a passion deep within her belly. "He has hemolytic… anemia… Foreman's… got it."

"Ohhhhh," was all she could utter as his tongue dipped between her legs stripping her of all coherent thought. She gripped fistfuls of sheets in her hands. _Oh yeah, who was she kidding? There would be no sleeping tonight. His tongue was pure heaven!_

"You still want to go to work?"

"House, shut the fuck up… don't stop!" God, even when they were having sex, he could still annoy the shit out of her. Moaning out loud, she couldn't even try to restrain herself anymore.

His tongue worked its magic teasing and licking. She could feel her heat rise in her warming her from the inside out. Remy writhed underneath him, her head thrashing back and forth under the beautiful torture. Seconds melted into minutes as he brought her to the precipice again, taking her right to the edge, but not allowing her to fall. Suddenly his tongue was gone, stopping his sweet torment as he came to position himself over her. Remy wanted to shout out and complain at his refusal to finish but a peace had come over him and she stilled beneath him. Hovering over her, he looked deep into her eyes with the soul of a man seeking redemption and acceptance. Her breath caught in her chest aching at his raw, unsheltered need for her. She brought her hand up to touch his face, telling him it was ok, that whatever he was feeling, she would be there.

This time when he entered her, he did it deliberately, reverently, watching her eyes as he slowly made love to her. The urgency was over having exhausted and spent that raging need. His lips moved over hers drinking in her love for him. Now he worshiped her, feeling her, tasting her like she was fine wine. The scent of her own essence on his mouth drove her wild but she let him guide the pace.

His kisses were tender and loving, his touch soothing and sensual. Moving inside her, he stroked her gently, languidly, playing her like a symphony. Remy thought that she could never feel this happy, this loved, ever, until this very moment. He plunged into her again and again, picking up the pace until she exploded around him in a blinding flash of passion and ardor. He followed quickly after, tumbling into the abyss of consuming rapture. Collapsing onto her, he breathed heavily into her hair as she held onto him, coming back to her own reality.

Propping his weight off of her onto his elbows, his eyes, those eyes that could see everything, looked into her and through her to her most intimate hidden self. She could not hide who she was from him anymore; she had no desire to even try. Opening herself up to him completely, she let him in allowing him to own her soul. She could see how much he loved her, reading it in the navy blue flecks of his eyes as he smiled down at her. He, too, had opened up his soul to her, sharing himself completely with her.

They were one now, united in the pain of their pasts and looking forward to their future. She loved him more than anyone she'd ever been with. She didn't care who knew, she didn't care where it took them. All she wanted was to be with him. Like this, forever.


	45. Chapter 45

The Gauntlet

Chapter 45

House opened his eyes to the darkened room and looked at the red numbers of the clock over his right shoulder. Five fucking minutes. _That was it?_ _How could he have been asleep for only five minutes?_ It was 3:00 in the morning and he hadn't slept for more than an hour at best. He was exhausted and spent. And he was in pain.

Running his hand over his face, his teeth clench against the rage that was tearing and clawing its way through his leg. He knew having sex against the wall was a bad idea, but he had wanted her so bad that he couldn't wait the extra few minutes it would have taken to just go to the bedroom. At the time, it made total sense. It was amazing and so totally worth the agony but now he was paying for it in spades. His whole leg throbbed and burned and he couldn't get comfortable even with her body heat next to him. He had just taken another two Vicodin twenty minutes ago, but they weren't making a dent.

Figuring he wasn't going to get to sleep anytime soon, he might as well get up so he didn't wake her. She was sleeping so soundly curled up in the blankets and he didn't want to disturb her. There was no need for her to be up too because there was nothing she could do to help. Walking was usually the only thing to help loosen the muscles.

Slowly, he pushed himself up from the mattress and hoisted his leg over the edge with his hands. He paused for a moment with his feet on the floor to make sure he was ready to stand because his cane was nowhere in reach. He vaguely remembered letting it fall somewhere out by the door when they first came in. She had brought his clothes in and left them on the wicker armchair across the room by the door. It would be a challenge to get to them but he figured at least if he could make it that far without falling on his ass, then maybe he'd be able to make it out to the kitchen for a drink.

Holding onto the tiny night table to steady himself, he pushed up to standing. His leg screamed in protest and he let out an involuntary grunt as the muscles cramped in objection to his weight. She stirred slightly behind him and he swung his head around to make sure she hadn't woken. Seeing her burrow further into the covers, he gingerly took a tentative step forward holding onto the damaged muscle with his hand. Slowly but surely, he hobbled his way over to his clothes liked an old man. He searched for his boxers in the pile and awkwardly stepped into them half-leaning his ass against the chair and half balancing with his hand on the wall. He cursed himself again for being such an idiot. Thank God she was sleeping so she wouldn't have to see him in this pathetic state. Who did he think he was trying to be, Super Stud? He was a cripple and fifty years old to boot. The last time he'd had sex against the wall was twenty-five years ago when he was young enough to drive nails through cinder block with his penis. Now, he could barely walk on a good day, let alone play acrobatic tricks in the middle of sex. He didn't know what the fuck he was thinking. Once again, she was so beautiful she'd made him stupid. Where the hell was his inner Wilson when he came up with these dumbass ideas?

Slipping his dress shirt on, he buttoned it up half way and limped his sorry, tired ass out into the dining room holding onto walls and furniture as he went. Passing the table, he eyed the pillar where he'd fucked her brains out and briefly paused to really take a look. It was amazingly sexy and hot but, man, what a moron. He couldn't do that sort of stuff anymore, he knew better. He just wasn't that guy anymore. And that made him supremely angry.

House felt like an invalid as he lurched forward from the wall to flatten his palms against the surface of the dining table. He could barely move. Every little step, every tiny amount of pressure made the leg throb in protest. It was like a vice had clamped down onto his thigh, cranking tighter and tighter until at some point the limb was just going to be squeezed off. Finally, he inched his way around the table to spy his cane on the floor by the door. He had to traverse the space from the table to the door and judging by the way he was feeling the mere five feet was like a chasm of immense distance. Steeling himself for the task, he took in a fortifying breath and limped over.

Once he had the stability of his cane, he was much better off. He could walk around, albeit it slowly and laboriously, but he wasn't going to fall over. He made a few laps of the open space. At least if she saw him now, he wouldn't look like the pathetic ass that he was. He could hide the agony he was feeling and she wouldn't have to take pity on him for his wretched existence.

Times like these, House still wondered what the hell she saw in him. She had told him that she loved him tonight. But for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. She could have anyone she wanted, man or woman apparently. Yet, she'd chosen to be with him. He didn't get it. He simply didn't see the attraction.

House paced into the kitchen and opened the fridge to see what was available. She had some left over Chinese food, maybe some Italian, an apple and a stick of butter. Wow, she was even less adept at food preparation then he was. _Shit, how did she even survive?_ He had come in there for something to drink and he disappointingly found a twelve pack of diet Dr. Pepper next to the lone stick of butter. He rolled his eyes at the fact that it was diet, but took a can anyway and made his way back into the living room. Turning on the television, he sat down on the sofa and lifted his leg up to the coffee table. Flipping through the middle of the night infomercials, he massaged the tender flesh sipping his vile soda, hoping to find something that would either take his mind of the ache or bore him into at least a few minutes of sleep.

He was miserable. He wanted to be home, with his things, his bourbon, his TiVo. At least there he was comfortable in his misery. Here he had none of his coping mechanisms and he was starting to go bat-shit crazy.

"What are you doing up?"

House jumped at the sound of her voice. He hadn't even heard her come into the room. Shaking his head, he turned back to stare at the TV. "I can't sleep," he stated flatly.

"What's wrong?" she asked coming closer to him. She had put on a tank top and a pair of those underwear that looked like they were little shorts instead of panties. She looked amazingly tousled, but right now he was in too much pain to even care.

"My leg hurts."

"Oh." She sighed. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"Smart idea, don't ya think?"

She nodded and turned around quietly to go back to bed. House closed his eyes feeling like an ass. This wasn't her fault. He shouldn't take it out on her. "Wait," he grumbled.

She padded back over to the arm of the sofa and raised an eyebrow at him.

He frowned at her. "I'm in pain and I can't sleep so I'm cranky."

She gave him a little smile and sat on the edge of the sofa arm. Leaning over, she kissed his head. "I have an idea."

"You can't fix it," he said looking up at her.

"Just give it a chance," she said getting up and going back into the room.

"There's nothing that will make it go away," he called to her. "I should know, it's my leg."

She returned to the couch with something in her hand. "Trust me, okay?"

He shook his head and sighed. "What is that?"

"It's massage oil," she told him holding out the bottle for him to see except it was too dark in there for him to read the label. Especially without his old man glasses.

"No. Uh, uh, no touching," he stated forcefully.

She sat on the coffee table and smiled devilishly at him. "Remember that little story about Derek Jeter earlier?"

House raised his eyebrow, suspiciously. "Yeah…"

"Well, he's not gay and I dated him on and off for six months," she told him.

House stared at her. "By dated you mean, slept with?"

She shrugged. "Yeah."

"Then why did you say…"

"Because I left with him that night, instead of her and I didn't want to get into it at the table," she rolled her eyes. "I know, I'm a whore. It's just easier if she thinks he's gay."

House didn't really know what to make of this new information. The woman he'd just professed his love to and completely messed up his leg for had sex with one of the best shortstops in baseball and she was telling him about as if she'd simply gone to a game to see him play. _Wonderful_. And this was supposed to make him feel better how? "What does this have to do with massage oil?"

"Well, he used to have me rub him down after games…" Oh, fantastic. Now, that was a visual he didn't need to have.

"Don't they pay trainers for that?" he griped.

"Not this kind of massage oil," she stated with a coy smile wiggling the bottle.

House rolled his eyes. "I'm a little pissy so cut to the chase."

Amazing trying to hold onto her patience, she sighed at him. "It's not about the muscle that's injured. It's about the muscles _around_ and _opposite_ it that aggravate the strain," she said. "Take your boxers off and lay down on your stomach."

"What? No," he protested.

"Just do it," she pressed. He stared at her stubbornly and she crossed her arms tenaciously back. "Trust me."

He eyed her for a long moment. She pursed her lips into a challenging frown.

"Just trust me," she persisted. "Please?"

"Fine. If it got Jeter laid..." Relenting under that gorgeous full pout of hers, he took off his shirt and whipped his boxers down before he positioned himself on his stomach onto the cushions of the sofa.

Softly, she came to kneel between his legs balancing herself over the calf of his good leg. He could hear her pouring the oil into her hands and rubbing them together to warm it before she delicately touched her hands to the back of his thigh. Drizzling more of the liquid onto his leg and butt cheek, she slathered his skin with the silky oil, careful not to get any on the upholstery. It was a little strange, but he was beginning to relax into the ministrations of her hands as they worked. He had had massages before and they had always helped; he didn't know why he didn't do it more often. He didn't know why he'd made such a big deal out of it with her. I wasn't like she hadn't touched every single inch of body before.

"Whoa…." He exclaimed suddenly as he started to feel the oil tingle and get warm on his skin. He craned his neck around to look at her. "What the hell kind of oil is that?"

She giggled behind him as she kneaded his butt muscle with her knuckles. "Cinnamon flavored warming body oil from Frederick's of Hollywood."

A laugh escaped from his lips in shock. "Seriously?"

"Yup," she chuckled and then leaned over and blew on it. It started to burn.

"Fuck, that's hot!" he pushed up on his arms and tried to wriggle out from under her.

"Shut up and lay down," she ordered pushing him down with a firm hand on his back.

"It burns!"

"Stop being a baby."

He pressed his forehead into the sofa cushion, groaning at the heat as she pressed her hands into a tight spot on the side of his hip. It burned and hurt, but not like his thigh, this was a good kind of pain. "You're bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired, Doctor."

"Hmm… learned from the best," she said. Whatever she was doing did feel incredible.

She worked her hands over his butt and down onto the back of his thigh kneading and rubbing, bringing with them the heat. _Gluteus maximus, Bicep Femoris, Semitendinosus, Semimembranosus, Gracilius_. Her hands were strong, but gentle as they took long strokes upward pushing the tension out of his leg, molding the taught angry muscles into submission. Surprisingly the burning ache in the front of his leg dulled to a throb as she worked.

"So Derek Jeter, huh?" he murmured into the cushion as he melted under her touch.

"Yeah," she said.

"For six months?"

"Only when he was in town and only when they'd have day games," she elaborated.

"Why then?"

"Because he'd have his nights free. Otherwise he'd get to the stadium too early during the day and wouldn't be home until well into the night," she explained.

"So what happened?" he asked curious as to why they had ended.

"The guy is all about baseball. He doesn't have time for anything else."

"He's one of the best in the business," House said.

"Yeah, I have a thing for sexy maniacal over achievers apparently," she joked.

House rested his head on his arms and relaxed into the cushions. "Is that what Madeline was?"

He could hear her sigh as she thought about how to answer that. "Madeline was… a fling. A drunken one-night stand."

"Only once?"

"There were some others, before her," she said. "I like being with men mostly, but sometimes being with a woman is exciting and different."

"Have you had a relationship with a woman?"

"No," she paused. "I only have relationships with men. Most of them never lasted beyond six or eight months for one reason or another." Her hands stilled and she rested them in the small of his back. "You are the first person I've ever loved. So I don't know what that means."

House took in a breath, shocked by her disclosure. "Way to put the pressure on."

She chuckled and pushed on his back. "I was just being honest."

He laughed and then grew quiet as she began to rub him again. "I don't know what it means either. You're only the second woman I've said it to and meant."

"Who was the first?" she asked curiously. He supposed that since she had been candid about her bi-sexuality, that he owed her the same kind of honesty.

"Her name was Stacey," he told her. "She lived with me for five years. She was with me when my leg happened."

"Is that why it ended?"

"Yeah."

"Your fault or hers?"

"Both."

"Jeter was just sex," she said suddenly.

"Oh, well that makes it so much better," he muttered. "I'm so glad I know that now."

She laughed and leaned over to kiss his back. "I was just letting you know he meant nothing to me."

"Yes, you're whorish ways, give me great comfort to know that you're not going to dump my sorry old ass for some young hot blonde of either variety."

"Well, depends on how great her tits or his ass are…"

He chuckled into the couch. "Stop, I'm getting hard again and I can't go another round."

"Not even if I do all the work?" she proposed.

"I suppose I could lay here and let you take advantage of me, I might feel used though."

"Come on, what's a good massage without a happy ending?" She leaned over and whispered into his ear, running her tongue along the inside.

"You are insatiable," he said and then rolled over onto his back between her legs after she bit down on his neck.

Leaning over him she smiled brightly, an impish light dancing in her eyes. "You are just that sexy gorgeous," she told him. "I can't get enough of you."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

She quickly shimmied out of her underpants and settled herself onto him. House's eyes rolled back in his head for a second and he shook his head to regain a little bit of control. He was functioning on pure animal instinct at this point.

"I'm really liking the no condom thing," she told him beginning to move her hips slowly over him. "No interruptions and I can feel all of you."

"Um, yes, I can feel all of you too."

"It feels so much better," she mused, sliding up and down the length of him. "Don't you think?"

_Hell yeah, but it was not smart_. He took in a breath though his nose. "We should have tested ourselves before we did that."

"Horse is out of the barn on that one," she sighed, settling into a rhythm. "I'm on the pill."

"I know."

"I'm also clean." She hummed over him. "I was tested in September."

"Um, last… July," he said trying desperately to recall. _God she felt so good._ His hands reached for her hips as she rocked on top of him.

"Good," she drew out. "Mmm… we should do this at least once a week."

Why was she still talking? He could barely understand her. "What's… that?"

"This… ahhh… massage thing," she purred. "With a… happy ending."

Her pace quickened and House dug his fingers into her hips.

"Sex… can be good … for pain."

Incredible. Unbelievable. Amazing. Fucking hot. All he could do was grunt at her in response.

"Orgasms make endorphins…" she panted. "Endorphins… are… like… morphine."

His breathing came in short bursts. He couldn't speak, let alone think.

"How could we… waste… such… natural… drugs…"

Holy shit. He was going to cum any second now and she was still talking.

A sound erupted out of him that he'd never made before as he exploded into her. Every square inch of his body convulsed. He was pretty sure that his toes offered up some sperm on that one because he could feel the pull coming from way, way down below as she continued to ride him.

"Ohhhhh, MY GOD!" she found her release, pulsing around him and then collapsing onto his chest. Good God, she was mind-blowing.

House counted every breath to make sure he was indeed still alive. Everything was warm and tingled. He felt like he'd been ironed out and not a single bone existed in his body anymore. Pulling the blanket down from the back of the couch, she covered them and nestled his thigh between the heat of her legs. His pain level had dropped to his typical point of merely tolerable and he was utterly exhausted. By the time she had them nestled in and his breathing returned to normal, he was so extremely relaxed that he passed out as soon as he closed his eyes.

_Yes, a massage with a happy ending was a definite way to go…_


	46. Chapter 46

The Gauntlet

Chapter 46

House woke up on the couch alone. For a brief second, he didn't know where he was when he'd opened his eyes. All he knew was that he was naked under a purple knit afghan and smelled like cinnamon candy and sex. It didn't take him long to remember why he was in that state. _Thirteen_…. Closing his eyes again, he let out a slow sigh and smiled. Of course her massage oil would be cinnamon. She was his Cinnamon Girl.

Stretching, he yawned and pushed himself into sitting. A wave of cinnamon came up from the blanket and he chuckled again recalling the incredible night they had. A lot had occurred in the last twenty-four hours, a lot of truths, admissions, dirty filthy touching. Life was good. Life was back to normal, maybe… no, scratch that. Life was looking up. He had won her back and now they could move forward.

Running his hand over the back of his head, he took some time to wake up glad that he had finally been able to fall asleep last night thanks to a really good massage and more earth-shattering carnal knowledge. Too bad he hadn't found that cure for insomnia a long time ago. Moving his thigh with his hands, he worked the blood around to loosen it up. He was thankful it didn't hurt half as bad as it did before, but it still complained its perpetual ache. Without having to look far, he noticed his Vicodin bottle sat on the coffee table with a hot pink post-it stuck to it.

"_Went for b-fast & coffee. I love you, 13_."

His fingered the note, smiling, before placing it on the table and grabbing his pills. She'd even left a glass for water for him. Evidently, she didn't like it when he dry swallowed his pills. Considering he was dehydrated from all of the wine and sex, he chugged the glass, emptying it only after he'd dry swallowed two of them anyway. The clock read 10:04AM. _Wow, they were really late for work and she went to get breakfast_? He wondered when she'd left and how long she'd be because they had to get going.

He needed a shower and his morning constitutional and he wasn't exactly clued in on the 'defecating in the girlfriend's apartment' etiquette. But, he'd eaten so damn much last night there was really no way around it. He'd just have to do a 'drop and run' and a 'spit shine' and hope he was done before she returned. So what if they were doctors and knew every biological thing created excrement. They were still a little too new in the relationship for the personal poop boundaries to be crossed.

Slipping on his boxers, for the third time, he briefly thought that these poor underwear had seen more action than a panty raid at a campus frat party. They were so used they could probably walk home on their own merit. Rising, he took his cane and his cell phone and went into the bathroom. He figured he needed to make up some kind of excuse as to why neither one of them were at the hospital yet.

He checked his text messages. Two from Wilson, Three from Foreman, one from Cuddy. Great.

Wilson: 10:35PM, last night - ::_Just checking in to make sure you didn't create Total World Annihilation over dessert and cappuccino_::

Foreman: 8:15AM - ::_Patient stable. Reacting well to treatment_::

Foreman: 9:30AM - ::_Are you serious? Ur really not coming in again cuz of a hangover? When has that stopped you before?_::

What? He didn't have a hang over. He had a killer sex hang over but he wasn't about to share that with Foreman. And he certainly didn't tell him he wasn't coming in. He checked his "Sent Messages" Box and sure enough, there was a text at 9:25AM. ::_Not coming in. Hang over_:: What the fuck? Thirteen had texted in a sick day for him. Why the hell would she do that?

He read the next one in the Inbox.

Foreman: 9:32AM - ::Now I get it. Now it makes sense why 13's not in either. Damn that was fast. Got you covered. ONLY THIS ONCE.::

House did a courtesy flush and shook his head. Well, at least Cuddy would buy the story of the hang over. There have been a few times he'd used that excuse himself. House supposed he could let Foreman off the hook now that he was back together with Thirteen and he was going cover for them so they could evidently play hooky together today.

Cuddy: 9:45AM - ::_If you keep drinking like this, I'm sending you to AA. I mean it_:: House laughed out loud at that one. God, that woman was so easy. And she'd gone right up to tell Wilson about it.

Wilson: 9:52AM - ::_I swear if you're drunk again, I'll come and beat your head in myself. You better not have fucked this up_::

House chuckled and typed in his response.

::Playing hooky. Night of wild sex! Good times::

He wrapped up business and found the air freshener. Preparing himself for the scent of cinnamon, he was shocked when it came out all strawberries and cream icky sweetness. He coughed a couple of times as the clash off odors and quickly washed his hands and face escaping the berry fumigated room into her bedroom. Shaking his head, he quickly hobbled over to where his pants were from the night before. He needed a shower desperately but there was no way he could maneuver in her claw foot tub. He'd fall down and break his neck just trying to get in.

_You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen_… Wilson…House still laughed at the girly ringtone he gave his best friend.

::Thank God! I was afraid I'd have to help you escape incognito from all the women that wanted to kill you for being a stupid ass::

House sat on the chair to text his response and put on his socks.

::You underestimated the power of my studliness. I'm hurt by your lack of faith::

He stepped into his jeans and stood shirtless, checking out his ass in her long freestanding mirror. _Damn, these jeans just kept getting better the longer he wore them_. Cameron was seriously either his stalker or his fairy godmother. He wasn't sure which, but he was thinking he might need to have her conjure up a few more pairs of these pants because even he'd fuck himself in these jeans.

_You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen_…

::I've been around the block enough to know, you limp a fine line between self destruction and self preservation::

House frowned. Wasn't that the truth… though he'd never admit that to Wilson in a hundred thousand years.

::No, you've been around the block enough to be your own divorce lawyer next time::

_You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen_…

::Sure deflect::

::Just stating the truth::

Hearing the door open and her come in with a rustling bag, House limped out to the living room. Suddenly his stomach was seriously griping about being on 'E'.

_You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen_…

::Go have fun. I want details later::

He quickly responded.

::Ha! You owe me a tome of info on you and Cameron before I give you juicy tidbits. TTYL::

Thirteen put the bag and coffee tray on the table and came over to him with a bright smile, looking clean and brilliantly beautiful.

"Good morning," she bid kissing him as she ran her fingers up his chest to curl them around the nape of his neck. Her nose hovered around his collarbone and she gave him a saucy smile. "Mmm, you smell like a porn star. Sex and cinnamon."

A sly grin stole over his face. "Please tell me you have first hand experience with that. I might actually die and go to Heaven."

"Sorry Cowboy," she chuckled. "Your luck stops there."

She went to pull away from him but he curled his hands around her hips keeping her there. "You texted us out of work?"

She leveled her gaze at him. "Yeah. You said Foreman had it covered."

"I did." He narrowed his eyes a bit. "I didn't say we weren't going in at all."

Her eyes changed from bright to confused. "Your upset? That I called in a day off?"

"I didn't say we were going to do that."

She stepped out of his arms and rested her hand on the back of the chair. "So it's ok for you to avoid work only when you're actually _at work_?"

"That's not the point," he contended. "Now there's going to be questions."

She snorted a laugh at him and grabbed a cup of coffee handing it to him. "Please. They've all figured it out already. There's a fucking pool going on as to whether we were getting back together," she said as she sipped carefully at her own coffee.

"I know," he griped. "I have two hundred bucks riding on it. The take is over five hundred."

Her mouth dropped open and she scoffed in amused indignation. "You bet on us getting back together. Fucker!"

"Of course I did," he shrugged. "Leon, the extra hairy janitor, placed the bet. He gets ten percent of the cut."

She rolled her eyes at him. "How could you be so sure I'd take you back?"

He slid up behind her and flattened his palm against her stomach, dipping his head into her neck. "Because you can't keep your hands off of me."

Rocking into him, she chuckled pacing her hand over his. "_You_ can't keep your hands off of _me_."

"This is true," he agreed, nibbling on her earlobe.

"So are you gonna buy me something with the money you won?"

"Fuck no." He stepped away from her and grabbed the bag from the table and sat down. "I'm reinvesting it in the pool for the when Bronstein finds out that his wife is cheating on him with her custom cabinet installer. I have special knowledge it's going to be next Tuesday. What'd you get me for eats?"

"You're going to email him aren't you?" She shook her head at him and rolled her eyes on a chuckle as he nodded in confirmation. "You want your shirt?"

"Yeah," he replied, digging into the bag to take out the foil wrapped sandwiches.

"The one with the T is mine," she said retrieving his shirt from the floor by the couch. "It has hot sauce on it."

"Hot sauce on eggs sandwiches? That sounds good," he said giving her a little pout. _She didn't think he'd want that, too?_

"Fine." She thrust his shirt at him and sat down. "We can trade half of each other's sandwiches."

He slipped his arms into his shirtsleeves and rolled up the cuffs buttoning up his shirt as she divided the sandwiches.

They ate and drank their coffee. Finishing, she tossed the garbage back into the bag and then cleared the table.

"So what do you want to do today on our day off?"

"The very first thing I want to do is go home and shower," he told her rising from the chair.

"Why don't you just shower here?"

He made a face and sighed heavily. He hated having to admit that he couldn't do something as simple as climb into a bathtub and cleanse himself.

"Oh," she said the realization dawning on her when he just looked at her. "Ok, give me a minute to throw some things into a bag and then we'll go." Within five minute she was back with her overnight bag. She didn't apologize, didn't make a big deal out of it, she just handed him his jacket and looped her purse over her neck across her body and held out her keys for him.

House put his jacket on and nodded at her. Frowning a smile at her, he kissed the top of her head. She smiled brightly at him and he felt good.

Things felt right.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

A/N: Hello my cherubs! So, so, very happy that everyone is alerting and favoriting this story. I makes me do the fangirl scream even though I'm the one who everyone's a fan of, but whatever. It makes me really happy to see how much everyone digs this story. So thank you, thank you!

I have sad news. The school year is starting on Tuesday for me and I must return to world of guiding adolescent minds, which is really like pushing a fat elephant up Mount Kilimanjaro. And I'm teaching 2 new courses for me, Digital Animation and Digital Photography. Gah! Scary! But should be fun. So alas my time will be sucked and bled dry for a bit until I get my footing. However, obsessive freak that I am, I will most likely still be ruminating on this story every non-occupied second I get. So, my updates will not be as frequent as they were. I just wanted to give you that heads up. Please stick around, there's still a lot of story to tell. And no! There will be no baby in this fic! These two would never reproduce. That's not where the meat of their relationship is. If you wan the baby fic go over to my other labor of love, Sessions II. That's another great ride! Love you all, Happy reading!!


	47. Chapter 47

The Gauntlet

Chapter 47

Remy smiled as she listened to House sing like he was Dean Martin in the shower. He was so funny. When he was happy, and especially after they had sex, he sang or whistled. It was cute and he amused the shit out of her.

Rolling over off of his bed, she put her panties and jeans back on while she waited for him. They just couldn't seem to keep their hands off of each other. It was her fault really. She had followed him into the bedroom to lie on the bed while he showered but, he took his pants off and that was the end of it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she grabbed one of his pillows and squeezed it, cuddling into the smell of his hair. The pillow felt different. Softer, fuller than they normally did. Remy made a curious face and then brushed it off as she flopped back against the mattress and rested her cheek on it smiling. She was so happy she could probably sing herself, that was if her voice didn't make dogs' ears bleed. They were together again. He loved her. She loved him. It was completely, totally, utterly fucking amazing.

_How lucky can one guy be;  
I kissed her and she kissed me  
Like the fella once said,  
Ain't that a kick in the head?_

She hadn't expected for things to unfold they way they had last night but, she wasn't going to complain. This was exactly what she wanted; to be back together with him, to have her heart stop aching every time she thought about him or saw him. Now her heart couldn't stop grinning. She felt giddy and girly and foolishly in love. That song he was singing, it was the truth. _Ain't love a kick in the head…_ One second you were ready to cut your heart out because it ached so badly and then next you were willing to ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.

_My head keeps spinning;  
I go to sleep and keep grinning;  
If this is just the beginning,  
My life's gonna be… bea-u-tiful._

Remy knew that what they had wasn't a fairytale. She didn't want the fairytale. She wanted House. He wasn't Prince Charming by any stretch of the imagination and she was certainly no Snow White. She wasn't even in Little Red Riding Hood's ballpark but House was certainly the Big Bad Wolf. He most definitely bit first and asked questions later. As long as she understood and accepted this fact, they would probably do ok.

House didn't say so, but she had a feeling that that was exactly what happened on New Years Eve. He freaked out because he was feeling too much, said something he didn't mean or couldn't express, and she reacted too quickly without letting him explain or come around to his own realization in his own time. It was as much her fault as it was his. She was hotheaded and quick to jump to conclusions because she was just as afraid to be hurt as he was. House may have been impulsive and aggressive when it came to medicine but that was because he was brilliant and knew what he was doing. When it came to people and feelings, he had no clue. Not that Remy was all that capable in that area herself, but she had marginally more experience than he did. She'd have to be patient with him though she wasn't going to pussyfoot around him; that was for sure. However, she would have to seriously control her flying off the handle when he got cantankerous and bitchy about something. Otherwise they'd wind up exactly where they were just two days ago, separate, unhappy and alone.

The shower stopped and he continued to sing while he dried himself off. He had a rich, velvety baritone and it was nice to just hear him be joyful for a change.

_Tell me quick, oh ain't love a kick?_

_Tell me quick, ain't love a kick in the head?_

Remy frowned a bit to herself. The shower thing at her place was going to be an issue. She loved her tub. Please, what woman wouldn't want a huge claw foot tub to take leisurely bubble baths and soak in? Hell, it was probably big enough for the two of them… that was if he could actually get in it. Her stomach did a little flip flop at the vision of the two of them frolicking in the tub together and she smiled. God, she had to stop thinking about having sex with him. They both needed a couple hours break otherwise they wouldn't be able to walk for the next two days. But Remy just couldn't help herself, he was so sexy he drove her absolutely wild.

She heard the door to the bathroom open as he came into the room. Remy groaned inwardly. Of course, he came out in only a towel, and a little one at that, water droplets still on his legs and chest and his hair was just the right kind of damp and messy as if he just ran the towel over it before swinging it around his waist.

"Hey, _Dean_, you want to put some clothes on before I rape you again?"

"Could you let me get to the dresser first?" he griped. "I'm a little slower than average today."

She watched him put his underwear on, spread on some deodorant and pull a t-shirt out of the drawer. She rolled onto her back and took the pillow from under her head, looking at it.

"Did you get new pillows?" she asked curiously.

He turned around and busied himself with finding a pair of jeans. "Pft, no… Why would I get new pillows?"

"I don't know," she replied. "They seem fluffier."

Jeans on now, he came over to the side of the bed and yanked the pillow out of her hands. "They're pillows. Leave it alone." And then he smacked her square in the face with it.

Startled, she screamed and rolled evasively to the other side of the bed arming herself with one from over there. He crawled onto the mattress, abandoning his weapon in favor of grabbing her by the thighs. Preparing for battle, she kneeled with the pillow poised over her head. He tackled her to the surface and ripped the pillow from her hands. Laughing, she screamed again and smacked at his back as he pinned her down. Struggling to break free, she giggled under his face. His pokey, bearded lips blew raspberries on the exposed skin of her belly where her sweater had ridden up making her scream again. Remy pushed futilely at his shoulders, squirming underneath him while he merely laughed at her.

"I may be gimpy and slow, but I'm still stronger than you," he taunted. Grinning, he kissed her belly and then crawled up her body to kiss her slowly and thoroughly. He tasted like fresh minty toothpaste and smelled soapy clean. Pulling away, he smiled down at her. "So, what do you want to do today since you so sneakily called us out to play hooky?"

"This," she shrugged, chuckling under him.

He shook his head and rolled off of her onto his back. "Nope. As much as I want to fuck your brains out again, I can't have sex anymore today. The stores have to replenish."

She sighed exaggeratedly. "Fine. If you say so. Then I guess we'll just have actually, oh my god, dare I say, _speak_ to each other?"

"I know, pathetic, huh?" he quipped. "Words are so wasted on a hot piece of ass like you."

"God forbid," she retorted. "I might actually say something witty!"

"You know I only hired you because you look good, right?"

"Of course," she nodded. "You know I only took the job so I could stare at your ass. Much to my dismay when I found out you sit on it all day."

"That's why I have minions," he said. "I can't be expected to actually walk around, look this good _and_ save lives. Why do you think I carry the stick with me?"

She laughed and rolled over to straddle him. "Oh, I thought that might have something to do with that sexy swagger you got going on."

He placed his hands on the side of her hips, just holding her. "I am hotness personified."

"That you are," she leaned over and kissed him, her tongue dipping in to taste him one more time. "That you are."

All of a sudden, he bucked her off of him. "Get off me before I actually blow dust out of my penis." Giggling, she unhooked her leg from his hips and snuggled into his side. "The well's dry. There ain't nothin' left, sister!"

Nuzzling against the warmth of his skin, Remy purred into his neck enjoying the feel of his scruff against her lips. "We could just sleep."

"What? And waste the day?" he argued. "No way. We have to do something."

"Ooo, I have an idea. Why don't we rent some movies, get snacks and curl up by the fire," she suggested. "We could do a cozy little film festival because it's too fucking cold out to do anything else."

His ribcage grumbled as he laughed. "You're appealing to my lazy nature. Smart woman. I like it." He gave her a swift kiss on the lips and got out of bed to pull on a hoodie sweatshirt.

Remy followed him and they left to go to the video store. They wandered up and down the aisles for a bit, trying to decide what they were in the mood to see. Drama was too serious, Westerns were just "No." So was Horror. Action depended on who was in it. They eventually came to comedy. Comedy generally tended to be good neutral ground.

"Ooo, _Sex and the City, Season 2_," he said excitedly, picking up one of the blue metallic boxes. "This is the one where Carrie finds Big at the Hamptons with Natasha and then he tells her they're engaged."

Remy stared at him for a long moment with her mouth open. She blinked twice.

"What?" he looked at her.

"You're such a girl."

He rolled his eyes and put the DVD back, making a disgruntled face.

"How about _Superbad_?" she suggested.

"Nah," he shrugged. "It wasn't as funny as I wanted it to be."

Remy put that one back and continued down the row.

He groaned and then started to laugh. "Oh Yes!"

"What?" she looked up curiously.

"_Return of the Pink Panther_," he announced taking the box from the shelf to show her. "It's a classic."

"Steve Martin was hilarious in that," Remy said coming up along side him.

"What?" he screeched, looking at her like she'd grown two heads. "Seriously? You're kidding right?"

"What?" she looked back at him. _What the hell was his problem?_ Steve Martin was funny as all get out in that movie.

He rolled his eyes disgusted with her. "Not Steve Martin. The one and only Peter Sellers. Fucking brilliant." All of a sudden he donned a snooty French accent._ "The beggar was the lookout man for the gang. That is impossible, how can a blind man be a lookout? How can an idiot be a police officer?" _

Remy looked at him dubiously. "Uh yeah, ok. I think was born _after_ those movies came out."

"Shut up. No you weren't," he griped staring at her with a wounded expression. "They came out in…" he paused thinking. Flipping the box over he went to look for a date. He pushed the case further away and squinted at it unable to read the small print.

"I can hold it way down here for you if your arm's not long enough," she teased.

"Fuck you," he said. "The print's in gray on white. Even an eight year old couldn't read that."

"1975," she said pointing at the small date with a smirk. "And maybe you'd be able to read it if your old man glasses weren't still sitting on your desk at work."

"Again, fuck you," he repeated with a glare. "And you're a liar. It wasn't 1975."

She laughed incredulously. "It says it right there."

"I graduated high school in 1977," he told her. "Holy crap… I was in high school when I saw those in the theater. When were you born?"

"1978."

He rolled his eyes and groaned in dismay. "Kill me now."

"Oh, stop," Remy admonished.

"I should have nicknamed myself Ridiculously Old Fraud."

Remy came up to him and laced her fingers at the nape of his neck. "You're not old. You're well aged."

"That only works for cheese, wine and scotch," he pouted.

"Well, keep bellyaching, Bosely," she quipped referring to the old guy job candidate who didn't really have a medical license, aka _Ridiculously Old Fraud, Bosely and Scooter_. "I'm gonna have to give you some cheese with that whine." She tapped her fingers on his chest and stepped away from him. "Get the Pink Panther. And we'll do the _Princess Bride_ because it's one of my favorites."

"_As you wish_…" he muttered with a chuckle making her smile as he continued to quote... "_There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours_."

"Of course that's the line you remember," she teased as they moved past the rest of the DVDs.

"_My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father. Prepare to die_," he recited in his best hoity Spanish accent. "Better?"

"Better." Remy giggled and slipped her arm around his waist. "I suppose I can concede to one girly movie."

"You want to get porn?" he stopped dead in his tracks.

"No, not that kind of girly," she slapped at his shoulder and he started to laugh. "No, idiot. I meant your pre-pubescent teen angst crap you like to watch."

"Nice, _Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants_, it is!"

Remy rolled her eyes and chuckled as they walked to the register. "Snacks, snacks… snacks. Sweet, salty?" She did a little dance in front of the candy and popcorn.

"Forget that stuff," he said. "I have an idea."

Remy arched an eyebrow at him. "Really, now?"

"We've got some time," he said. "We're going to the Grease Trucks for lunch."

"The Grease Trucks?" Somehow Grease, trucks and lunch didn't seem very appetizing.

"Gah! You've never been to the Rutgers' Grease Trucks after a night of drinking? What kind of party-girl are you?" he stared at her again, at a loss for her lack of House-plus-whatever-equals-a-good-time knowledge. "It's only like the best, most disgustingly incredible roach coach food you can get on the planet. We're so going."

"Ok," she shrugged. He seemed enthused so, she figured why not.

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting in her car eating. 'Eating' was actually a mild term for it. If food could be a sensual experience, this was like Caligula had come to town.

The 'Fat Fellatio' was the most sinfully decadent thing Remy had ever eaten. Whatever diabolical mind decided to put cheese steak, chicken fingers, bacon, mayo, and French fries together on a super bun and then melt mozzarella cheese over it was a genius. It was a greasy meat orgasm on a sub roll. House got the 'Fat Darrell' which consisted of chicken fingers, mozzarella sticks, French fries, marinara sauce and melted mozzarella cheese on a bun. He let her taste it, informing her at the same time that he never ever shared food, but made a concession for her because this was in fact a religious experience. The 'Fat Darrell' was equally as orgasmic.

The inside of her car was going to smell for weeks, but she didn't care. They had probably both shaved about five years off of their arterial walls but like some drugs, this was so incredibly worth it.

"Oh my god," Remy said waving her napkin like a white flag surrendering. "I can't eat any more."

"Wrap it up," he told her. "We'll have the rest of it for dinner later."

"I'm never going to have to eat again," she said, stifling a belch. "I think I'm in a food coma."

Taking one last bite, House wrapped up the last of his sandwich and put both of them into the paper bag. Putting the car in gear, he pulled back out onto the street to get on Rt. 27 to head back to Princeton.

"Teddy would kill me if she knew I ate there," Remy said.

"Sometimes dive food is just as good as all that foufy crap," he said sliding her a glance as he shifted into fifth gear. He was driving her car again and Remy's inner girl let out a little squeal of delight. They were doing the couple thing today. It was so cool.

"She pretty protective of you," he said sliding her a glance as he maneuvered into traffic.

"She like a big sister, except were the same age," Remy explained. "She's been looking out for me since kindergarten. We've been through everything together."

"Where's your father?"

"I honestly don't know." He arched an eyebrow at her curiously. "I haven't spoken to him since the day I graduated from pre-med. He was there, said congratulations and then left. I don't know where he's living, what he's doing with himself, nothing and I don't care."

"You put yourself through med school?"

"Yeah," she said and then laughed when she realized he get a kick out of how. "Teddy and I stripped for a couple of years to pay the bills."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

He shook his head and grinned in amazement. "You just keep getting better and better."

Remy shrugged and laughed. "Hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."

"It's better than sucking dick in the rain," he added.

"Honestly! And then I didn't have to split my profits with my pimp." He stared at her wide-eyed and Remy laughed out loud. "I'm just kidding. Geez, House, what kind of girl do you think I am?"


	48. Chapter 48

The Gauntlet

Chapter 48

A/N: One last little snipit before school… it get a little angsty folks. To each life, some angst must come, even when you least expect it.

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By the time they had arrived back at House's apartment, it was the middle of the afternoon. They immediately went in to the bedroom and changed into pajamas with the tacit understanding that they were not to look at each other naked lest they get caught up in another round of glorious fornication. Having narrowly escaped by the grace of cotton and fleece, House went to light a fire while Remy pulled one of the blankets and a pillow off the bed to bring into the living room. She wanted to set up their little couch slumber party in preparation for their lazy afternoon of movies. Armed with some hot cocoa, they finally snuggled together and settled into to watch their 'hooky-day comedy film festival'. It didn't take long, however, for both of them to intermittently doze off for little catnaps while they watched. Between the excessive amount of food and sex they had had over the last twenty for hours, they were both exhausted.

By the time early evening came, they had watched both _The_ _Pink Panther_ and _The Princess Bride_. They'd taken a few pee breaks, made more hot chocolate and snacked on some chocolate chip cookies that were stashed in the kitchen. House was snuggled in between Remy's legs with his head on her lap while she sat up against the arm of the sofa. They were warm and comfortable, just enjoying the nearness of each other. Remy absently played with his hair, brushing it off his forehead and twirling the short strands around her finger. He had his hand up the hem of her pant leg tracing wandering circles in her shin. It was cozy and nice, that was until they were almost to the end of _The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants_ when things started to get a little dicey for Remy. Tibby had just suffered the loss of her little leukemia friend and Bee was home feeling sad and alone after her affair with Eric at Soccer camp. The girls had come for an intervention when Bee became emotional about her mother's death.

"_It's ok to miss her, Bee, as hard as it is to be sad about it, don't you think maybe it's harder not to be_," Carmen told her.

Bee shook her head sadly. "_No you don't understand… I can't. It hurts too much_."

"_I know…_" Carmen continued but Bee cut her off.

"_No you don't know_…" Bee sobbed, tears running down her pretty face. "_I just want to feel good and happy and alive… because if I feel alive it doesn't seem like she's dead. And if I'm not sad, then it proves that I'm not like her_."

A crushing wave of emotion came over Remy and suddenly her eyes welled up. _And if I'm not sad, then it proves that I'm not like her_ … Remy couldn't see. Those words echoed in her head over and over again. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't focus. A wellspring of emotion she hadn't felt in ages reared its ugly head and made its presence known like force of wind in a tempest. Without warning, she began to panic. "Get up. Get up, get up, get up!"

House sat up quickly like the building was on fire and stared at her totally confounded by her unexpected reaction and her abrupt state of mania. Remy didn't even wait to explain before she bolted off the couch, stumbling into the coffee table scraping her shin in the process. A wrenching sob came out of her chest and she covered her mouth with her hand to stop the overflow of emotion as she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Once inside the solitude of the bathroom, Remy could hold in her tears no longer. The sobs came hard, clawing their way out of her chest like demons buried long ago. Leaning her hands on the edge of the sink, she stared at her face as hot tears streamed fast and furiously down her cheeks. She looked like a ghost of herself, pale skin, sunken and red-rimmed glassy eyes. Her lips trembled as she fought to keep the silence of her tears, but she was unsuccessful. She didn't want him to see her cry. She didn't even know what was happening until it hit her like a Mack truck. In seventeen years, she hadn't cried about her mother. Until right now, today.

After what seemed like a few moments, he knocked quietly on the door. Remy closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. She was going to have to face him, explain what just took place. She swiped at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. Plunging her fingers into her hair, she cursed herself. Why, why now? After all these years… She was happy; couldn't she just be happy?

The door opened slowly and he came in uninvited when she didn't respond quick enough. Remy turned her face away from him. She didn't want him to see her like this. At least, he had knocked though before coming in to give her some warning. She expected some kind of sarcastic retort or quip from him but what she got instead were his warm hands on her shoulders tentatively offering her comfort. His tender, shy touch both warmed and broke her heart, even more than the wave of pain she had felt just moments ago about losing her mother at such a young age. Turning around, she flew into his arms and cried into his chest. His body tensed as she unloaded her sorrow into him. He didn't know what to do or what to make of the situation. He was at a loss but, gradually, his instincts began to take control and he started to run his hands up and down her back as she continued to soak his t-shirt with her tears. He wasn't as inept as he thought he was.

Minutes passed. She connected with her pain in the safety of his arms and he just took it all in, standing still and silent, absorbing it like a filter. When Remy could cry no longer, she took a deep breath and pulled away from him. His large hands came to frame her face and he looked into her eyes with that serious quizzical scowl he got when he was thoroughly confused. "What just happened?"

Remy brought her hands to his wrists and hung on to him like a grounding force. She pursed her lips into a frown. "Your stupid girly movie hit a little too close to home."

"Your mother," he acknowledged.

She nodded. "I hated her." Her bald admission didn't shock him. His eyes just simply locked on hers searching for an explanation. Something opened in her and she felt the truth of her whole existence since that day, seventeen years ago, rise up within her and pour out on a wave and angry desperation. "I hated that she couldn't be a mother to me. I hate that she yelled and screamed at me for no reason and then would turn around rely on me to be there _all the time_. I couldn't stand what she made my father become. I didn't go to the hospital when she died. I didn't care." She lowered her eyes ashamed of how she felt. "I didn't care that she was dead. I was glad."

"And?" he prompted, knowing that she was still holding back.

"Everything that girl said… it was like I was the one talking." She looked at him and stepped back out of his touch. "House, my mother didn't just die from Huntington's, she killed herself."

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a few steps backwards to lean against the sink and cross his arms. "How old were you?"

"Thirteen."

He closed his eyes as the weight of her admission hit him. The regret in his eyes was palpable. He was quiet for a long moment and then opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't, you couldn't have known," she placed her hand on his chest stopping him. "The number's just always seemed to suit me. Maybe because of that, I don't know but I like it."

Eyebrows furrowed, his fingers clasped hers holding her hand to his heart. "How did she…?"

"Pills," she told him. "Drugs are always a mask for something else, right? She was depressed, angry, bitter. She couldn't control her body anymore." Remy sighed and looked him I the eye. "After my mom died my father was useless, empty, hollow. I hated him too. Teddy was the only one who was there for me. She's my only family. Just like those girls in that stupid movie." He nodded at her, understanding the bond between her and her best friend a little better. She shook her head taking in a shuddering breath. "I haven't cried over her since she died. It kind of came up and bit me in the ass," she muttered.

"That's because you're not dealing with your own condition," he told her.

"I'm dealing with it," she defended herself.

"Dealing with it by not dealing with it?" he shot back.

Becoming angry, Remy looked at him incredulously. _Who was he to accuse her of avoiding her situation?_ "Please, you're the champion of not dealing with your problems."

"Right, I think I have that written on a coffee mug somewhere," he retorted. "We're not talking about me, we're talking about you. I didn't just have a spontaneous tear fest because of some girl in a movie."

"I don't want to die!" The tears threatened to fall again and she swallowed hard. "More importantly, I don't want to live like her."

His eyes became dark. "Dying's the easy part. It's the living that's hard."

Remy stared at him for a beat. "Where'd you get that profound little tidbit?"

"Wilson," he shrugged and softened a bit. "Who else?"

"Of course," she shook her head and then took some toilet paper to blow her nose. "I just want to live my life. I want to be happy."

"So live your life," he said. "No one's stopping you."

"Yes, but…"

He cut her off. "But nothing. Huntington's is like flipping a coin; you either have it or you don't. It's a fifty-fifty chance."

"It's a death sentence," she argued.

"Yeah, and we're all going to die, some of use sooner than others. I could take just one more Vicodin and my liver could shut down in an hour. I'm already living on borrowed time. How much time do you think I have left?"

Remy stared at him and closed her eyes. She knew that was his reality. They all tiptoed around it, but it was the bare truth. "What if I have it?"

"You pick up the pieces and move on," he stated.

"Is that what you're doing?" she retorted. "How's that working out for you?"

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. "Living in misery is marginally less shitty than dying in it."

Remy scoffed. "Aren't you full of the witty platitudes today?" She stalked around the bathroom tossing her tissue into the wastebasket.

"Yeah, it's a gift." He reached out and grabbed her arm pulling her back toward him. Searching her face for a second, he said, "You see, now that I've told you I love you, you're not going to be able to get rid of me. No matter how much you twitch or gimp or flail around like a spaz, you're stuck with me. So if you're worried that I'll leave you because you might turn into that monster your mother was, you're sadly mistaken." He wrapped is arms tighter around her waist. "I'm like a stalker, I'm in it 'til the big ugly death scene."

Remy bit her lip, letting his words absorb into her. It was sarcastic to be sure, but the clarity in his eyes told her that he was deadly serious. "And what if I don't have it?"

He smirked at her. "You think I like you because you might be dying? Ha, that's Cameron's deal. I'm soooo not that deep… I like you because you're a lesbian."

Remy rolled her eyes. "I'm not a lesbian."

"Lesbian, smes-bian," he muttered. "Girl-on-girl is hot no matter what you call it!"

"Wow, we almost made it a full twenty-four hours without you making a stupid comment about that!"

He shrugged. "Yeah well, what can I say, lipstick lesbians make me giddy."

Shaking her head, Remy stepped out of his embrace but his fingers trailed down her arm to grab onto her hand keeping her tied to him. This conversation was over but he wanted her to know he was connected to her for the good and the bad. Laughing, she pulled him off the sink and out of the bathroom. "Maybe if you play your cards right… one day…"

He stopped short in the hallway pulling her back to him, his eyes alight with the possibilities she'd just proposed. Tugging her hand, he yanked her against his chest. Tipping her chin up, his crystal clear eyes searched her face, grinning. "Have I told you _really_ just how much I love you today?"

"Um, you did just tell me that you love me even if I'm dying, but tell me again," she smiled.

"If you let me have a threesome, I'll love you more than Vicodin."

Remy placed her hand on his cheek and smiled. "Babe, you say the most romantic things."


	49. Chapter 49

The Gauntlet

Chapter 49

_A/N: Hey guys, it's been a while. Yes, I'm going to give you the obligatory, "things have been so crazy"… but well, they honestly have. I can't even tell you how much I wish I could get paid to write this stuff! I wish, I wish, I wish… Hopefully you're all still interested in what's going on with these two. I am, and I daydream about to do with them. So I definitively have more stuff to tell! Many that's to Kwaish for her mad grammar skills and to Pywacket75 for letting me bounce the ball off her head. Enjoy._

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"You know, if you're seriously going to make me drive your ass to work at the butt crack of dawn, you're going to have to get Cuddy to give you one of those gimp parking decals so we can park in my spot without having your car towed."

"I never said you had to drive me in. You're the one who decided it was a good idea to get up early and have sex in the shower this morning," Thirteen remarked from the passenger seat of her car. She had a little smirk on her face and he arched an unconvinced eyebrow at her. "I was quietly getting ready, trying not to wake you."

"Right, you just happened to walk past me with your bare ass hanging out to turn off the alarm," he reminded her as he maneuvered the car through morning traffic toward the hospital. "And I'm not supposed to be excited by that and just ignore it?"

She gave him a sly grin. "You could have turned off the alarm three snoozes before. It's totally not my fault."

"Sure, it's not you fault your bare naked ass turns me on, and you flaunt it like Lady Godiva every chance you get," he griped at her.

Giggling impishly, she placed her hand on the side of his head as he pulled into the parking lot and drove toward his spot. "You love it. Stop your bitching."

She was right. He did love it. Absolutely everything. House smiled despite his tired, grumpy disposition. It was way too fucking early for him to be awake, let alone driving into work on a Monday morning, but there was something… so _right_, and _good_ about it that somehow he didn't care about the time. Cuddy was going to actually fall off her stiletto heels and die of shock when she discovered he made it in before 10:00AM; and not just early, but a good two and half hours before his usual time to boot. Maybe then, after she discovered it was because he was having sex with one of his fellows, his witchy boss wouldn't be so quick to exercise her righteous indignation about workplace ethics and the like. House knew he was going to get an earful on the subject once the truth was out, but frankly he didn't care about that either. He and Thirteen had just had the most fantastic three days of make-up sex, interrupted only by sleep, a slight emotional breakdown and some food. Sure they were milking the whole 'just got back together theme' but it was so worth it. He felt like a million bucks. Things finally felt good for a change.

The last time House felt this complete was for about twenty short minutes after he had rekindled his affair with Stacey. Life had felt good, he had been in love again, and Stacey had wanted to leave Mark for him. However, it was fleeting. He had been living in a delusion. In his heart, he knew he and Stacey couldn't work together; they could never get back what they had before the infarction. Too much had happened. He was too selfish for her; he always had been. Plus, she was a married woman and he was never into adultery. She had a husband who loved her and that husband was willing to do what it took to make it work. House wasn't; he never had been.

But, now two years later, something was different. House had told Stacey then that things never changed; that he couldn't change. But that was a lie. It was lie then and it was a lie still. House had changed. Somehow, he was willing to be _that guy_. Now, he was willing to do what it took to make it work, not for Stacey… but for Thirteen… for Remy.

Remy… He still couldn't actually call her by her given name. It felt weird. Despite what he found out about her mother, she was still Thirteen to him. And she'd told him she liked it when he called her that, so they left well enough alone.

House wasn't quite sure what all this meant. He was not the type of guy to revel in the squishiness of a relationship. He didn't do cute little hearts and flowers and romance. But, he was nevertheless head over heals in love with this incredible woman next to him in the car. He couldn't help himself. She was alluring and intoxicating and more than he could have ever expected her to be. He still couldn't believe that he had lost her because of his own stupidity. Yet, by some inexplicable stroke of luck, he had the wherewithal to win her back. _Bring on peace in the Mideast because apparently he was fucking Superman. _

House knew he owed a lot what happened to Cameron, like a year's worth of something. He had no idea what. But without her help, he wasn't sure if he'd have been so successful. And that thought he hated. He couldn't stand to be indebted to anyone, let alone a woman, and never mind a woman who would so happily rub his face in the 'I told you so' of it all. Cameron's incessant need to believe that he was capable of love had finally been proven valid. She would wear it like a badge of vindication, proof that she had been right about him all along.

A part of him didn't really care about that though, because every time he looked at Thirteen, House was continually amazed that he could find a woman who actually mirrored his feelings about how the world worked. They were so alike in so many ways. They both feared commitment, and even more so, intimacy. They both omitted huge pieces of themselves in dealings with others as a defense mechanism. But for some reason, they had let each other in. In the beginning, she held so many mysteries behind those crystalline feline eyes of hers. There were secrets she had shared with him, vulnerabilities that echoed the weakness in his own character. Fears that he had tried not face for a long time about living and dying and loving open and freely. She was strong in a way that he wasn't and that made him want to love her even more… if that was at all possible.

Maneuvering the little car into his parking spot, House turned off the engine. For everything they'd confessed this weekend, they'd had just as much fun. He truly enjoyed just being with her. She made him laugh. She made fun of him and called him on his bullshit. In that sense, she was an equal.

Smiling at her, he laced his hand in hers keeping her next to him in the warmth of the car. He didn't want to go out into the biting cold just yet and break the little magic bubble that had surrounded them since the food tasting four nights ago. It was like a metaphor for the ending of their weekend together. Once they stepped out of the car it was back to having to deal with each other as boss and underling versus lovers.

"I think we need to establish some more ground rules," he ventured as he looked at her.

She flat out laughed at him. "Oh yeah, because that worked so well last time."

Rolling his eyes, he leveled a stare at her. "I'm serious."

"I know," she said, "It's so cute."

He grimaced. "See that's why we need ground rules, because I can't have you saying shit like that in front of people who are supposed to fear me."

She made a face, completely not taking him seriously. He narrowed his eyes at her and she pouted at him. "Ok, fine," she acquiesced. "What exactly were you thinking?"

"Number one, no discussion of our home lives at work," he began.

"Sounds reasonable," she said turning a bit to face him. "That means, that if we fight at home, we don't bring it to work and vice versa."

He nodded. "I'm all for the compartmentalization."

She smirked at him. "Yeah, you're so good at that!"

"Shut up," he grumbled. "Number two, and I know this one's going to be hard for you, but no more sex at the office."

A raucous unladylike chortle erupted out of her. "Oh that's a good one! Mr. 'I can't go through one morning without fucking your brains out because I saw your naked ass for two seconds'. Who was it that texted me down to the morgue, before the incident? Oh wait, that was you. You are so going to fold on that one!"

Disgruntled that she was so not taking this seriously, he stared at her for a moment and then smirked. "You think I can't hold out until we get home?"

She laughed and shook her head dubiously. "Nope."

"You're a hot lay but, I'm not the one who can't keep their hands off of me," he challenged. "And you didn't have to come to the morgue."

"You're a hot lay too, but I can most definitely keep my hands off you for more than eight hours," she shot back. "And please, if I didn't come running to one of your texts, even if was to come in a pick up your pen from the floor, you'd have a hissy fit."

"Doubtful," he grinned.

"We'll see who's right," she quipped, blowing him a kiss. "Next?"

He shrugged. "That was pretty much all I've come up with so far."

Thirteen looked at him for a moment and then frowned in contemplation. "I have a couple."

He smiled, curious as to what her stipulations might be, since she so readily mocked him for his. "No abuse of authority."

House laughed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? That's how I operate every day."

"That means, for example, if you're pissed at me for whatever reason, you can't make me do things like your clinic hours or scrub bedpans and do icky procedures on a whim just to get back at me."

"What else?"

"And no favoritism," she declared.

"Favoritism?"

"Yeah, the reverse of getting back at me is making the team do those things but not me, because you don't want to make your girlfriend do the dirty grunt work."

House rolled his eyes in mock frustration. "Well, I can't work, if you're going to tie my hands like that."

"I'm serious," she stated. "It's not fair. It makes me look like I'm getting special favors because I'm giving you special favors."

"Fine," he relented. "No favoritism or abuse of my authority over you, although that sounds kinda kinky and could be fun."

"Oh yeah, you're really gonna win the 'no sex' part," she said moving her hand to open the door.

Tugging on her hand, he pulled her back into the car. "Wait."

Her eyes grew concerned. "What?"

"I want to give you something," he said moving his hand to his jeans pocket.

She waited expectantly, her eyes curious about what he wanted to give her. Pulling her key chain out, he placed it in her hand and closed her fingers over it holding her hand tightly in his. "Don't ever give this back to me again."

A slow smile crept over her mouth and she nodded. "Okay."

He nodded once, satisfied that she took his meaning loud and clear. "Okay."

Grabbing his cane from the side of his seat, he pushed the door open and was immediately assaulted by the blast of frigid winter air on his face. Unfortunately, their little bubble was broken and it was time to go back to reality. Things were settled, discussed and put in their rightful place. They would be able to go back to work and keep things separated from their personal life. Things were good.

They walked in to the lobby of the hospital, garnering a few stares from those who passed them. People were more surprised to see him there at such an early hour more than seeing the two of them enter the building together. Not two seconds in the door and House already had to fight himself to not take her hand as they crossed the lobby floor to the elevator. And then he had to fight himself again to not lean over and kiss her in the elevator as they rode up alone in the car to Diagnostics. He slid his eyes to the corner to look at her. She had that little Mona Lisa smile on as she stared at the floor. _Damn, he wanted to kiss it right off her_… He let out an inaudible sigh and closed his eyes. Things would be fine. Eventually. As soon as he got the image out of his head of what she looked like on top of him as she screamed out his name when she came. _Yeah, this was so not going to be easy. _

The elevator doors opened and they walked the short distance to the conference room. The Three Amigos were already in. _Did they ever actually go home, he wondered?_ It seemed like no matter what time House came in they were there ready, willing and able to work. No one should have that much dedication. _Or was it fear?_ His chest puffed out in pride at that thought. Thirteen may no longer fear him, not that she ever did, but at least he had Dumb and Dumber still scrambling for his praise.

House pushed the glass door open and entered with Thirteen following closely behind him. One, two, then three sets of eyebrows raised quizzically as he limped over to the desk to drop his backpack and coat. A satisfied smirk crossed Foreman's face as the younger doctor came around to sit at the table from the coffee maker. "Feeling better?" he asked with a shit-eating grin.

House grunted at him and took off his coat. He eyed Thirteen who was pleasantly ignoring him as she settled into her lab coat and smoothed her hair of its static cling. _Great, she was so cool and collected it made him look like a bumbling idiot._

"I mean, with both of you out 'under the weather', we've been a little short handed," Foreman went on with the subtext dangling like a set of testicles on a bull.

"There must be a bug going around," Thirteen said casually, giving him a tiny smile as she went to pour herself a cup of coffee. House frowned at her when she didn't pour him a cup but instead sat down at the table warming her hands on her pink mug. _Compartmentalized_. Damned he'd gotten used to her making coffee for him at home. Now he was going to have to do it himself? _Well, that blew_. Hobbling over to the coffee bar, he grabbed his red mug and fixed his own cup.

Kutner eyed him leaning back with interest in his chair. "I thought you had a hang over?"

"No. That was your dad, the morning after he did your mom," House sniped.

"Ooo, snarky," Kutner chuckled turning his attention back to the table.

Taub let out an annoyed huff. "So are we going to keep tap dancing around this like a good Jewish family or can we finally get this out in the open," he complained from his seat as he jammed his hands into his trouser pockets.

House shot Foreman a look. "I didn't say anything," the neurologist shrugged with a laugh. Thirteen eyed him carefully and then moved her slim shoulders indifferently, giving him her tacit approval. It really wasn't breaking their first rule. It was just getting the truth out in the open for the sake of an easy transition.

House took a deep breath. He wasn't in the habit of making his romantic life the subject of conversation but they had to deal with the team on a daily basis. It was logical that they know. It was just easier to lay it on the table and then be done with it, instead of endure the speculation and gossip. There was already going to be enough of that from the rest of the hospital, not that House ever really gave a shit. Besides, he was usually the one to create the rumors to begin with because it was so much fun to watch the pit groundlings writhe and scramble to relay the latest so-called dirt.

"Yes, Thirteen and I are sleeping together. Period. End of story. Anyone have a problem with that?"

Kutner rolled his eyes back into his head and dropped his mouth open into huge grin. "Oh thank God! Finally!"

"I knew it," Taub announced triumphantly. "You two have been sleeping together since before Christmas." He held his hand out to Foreman. "You owe me a hundred bucks."

Shaking his head, thoroughly amused by the situation, the neurologist stood up, took out his wallet and held out a hundred dollar bill with a resigned face. House reached out and snatched it out of his fingers before Taub could grab it. "I'll take that as payment for your part of the bet with Chase, thank you very much." Taub frowned like a child whose cookie was taken away from him. House directed his glare at the plastic surgeon. "And don't look so smug, it was lucky guess on your part."

Thirteen held out her hand wiggling her fingers. "And you owe me a hundred bucks from a bet you made with me five weeks ago about the guy with four toes and the asthma condition."

House made a face at her. _How the fuck did she remember that?_ "I was still technically right about it…"

She laughed at him. "No you weren't, it was an ingrown toenail, not a fungus."

House narrowed his eyes at her. "It was because of his diabetes, so I was still right."

"Give me the money," she insisted with a grin. "You know I'm right."

Making a face, he wrinkled his nose at her and narrowed his eyes, slapping the bill into her hand. "Whatever."

Foreman laughed so hard he had to hold his sides. "Holy shit, Hell has frozen over."

"Oh shut up," House groused.

"So are we finally done with the drama?" Foreman demanded, good-naturedly. "Because it was beginning to feel like we were on one of you're dumb soaps."

"Yes, the drama's done," Thirteen spoke up. "We're having amazing sex. Now you guys know. Money's been won. Life goes on. Now can we move on?"

House gave her a small smile, loving her insistence on cutting to the chase. The table nodded their assent and they sealed the deal with a toast of coffee mugs. It was a little surreal, but hey, it worked.

Cuddy walked in at that moment, to a scene of normalcy, none the wiser. "Patient for you. 45 year old female, liver enzymes off the chart, no tumor, no fever, loss of appetite."

_And just like that they were off and running._


	50. Chapter 50

The Gauntlet

Chapter 50

_A/N: 221B Baker Street is Sherlock Holmes address. And if you're an obsessive fan like me, you know that House's apartment number is also 221B, we just were never told the street name!_

_Also, I have to say a deeply heartfelt thank you to Digital Buddha for the lovely, gorgeous review you left me. Every once in a while I have my doubts about my writing, but your review totally bolstered my confidence in my skills! It's so good to hear that people are enjoying this as much as you are. It makes me want to continue even when my muse takes a little vacation leaving me at a loss for the next step._

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A little over a month had passed since they had gone back to work with their arrangement set in place. Things were good. They had settled into a routine. Remy would get up early, shower and dress for work. House would get up, pour her a glass of orange juice and make her some toast that she could grab on the run to the hospital. He'd kiss her good bye and then go back to bed for an hour before he'd get up again to shower for work. He had said he did it only because he liked to see her in the morning but he refused to come in early with her and ruin his hard earned reputation of never being on time. She had never asked him to do any of it; rather it was just something he'd initiated on his own. It was sweet and a little something special he did just for her. To return the favor, she'd pick him up a venti white chocolate mocha from Starbucks on the way to work and leave it on his desk for when he eventually strolled in. He tended to like his coffee lukewarm anyway so it was just perfect by the time he came in. Foreman made a comment… just once. Remy had put salt in his coffee later that morning and it was never brought up again.

The team had been working hard on a particularly puzzling case this week. A 48-year-old man came into the ER presenting with numbness and tingling in his hands and feet. He had lost his balance and fallen down in a _Best Buy_ while looking at flat screen TV's. The jokes flew about him being over come by the excitement of finally being allowed to purchase the coveted television. However, that wasn't the case. The man was as fit as Foreman, a football coach at a local high school, never did drugs, drank only socially and never had any kind of prior medical condition other than the five separate arthroscopic surgeries on both knees for various sports related injuries. Foreman had run an MRI and CT scan of the patient's head, hands and feet and when they came back inconclusive, House had ordered a battery of autoimmune tests.

Since Remy had time while the test results were being process, she had called Teddy to meet for lunch at a place down the street from the hospital. Remy hadn't seen Teddy but for a couple of times since the food tasting because both of their schedules had been so busy. Her friend had eventually apologized, albeit begrudgingly, for putting her in an awkward position with Madeline, the food critic. Teddy still contended that Remy's presence was what had earned her such a glowing review. However, Remy was less inclined to believe so because she knew that Teddy's expertise stood on its own merits.

"So this compartmentalization thing is actually working out for you two?" Teddy questioned without conviction as she inspected her dish for Lord knows what.

Remy sipped at her iced tea. "Yeah, it seems to be fine."

Teddy stared at her, bemused. "Really?"

Chuckling, Remy looked at her. "Yeah, really. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"You really haven't had sex at work?" Teddy asked, amazed that this wasn't some elaborate lie.

"No. We really haven't had sex at work," Remy replied. She had wanted to about five or six different times, but she certainly wasn't going to be the one to fold. Especially today… They had gotten frisky before the alarm went off this morning but their patient's blood pressure had spiked and Foreman called her into the hospital much earlier than normal. So they wound up not finishing. She was horny as shit and he was wearing one of his black button downs today. Every time he limped his cute little ass past her, she wanted to reach out and grab it. She actually had to sit on her hands at one point or she would have cracked like an egg.

Snorting a laugh, Teddy shook her head. "You are so lying."

"Honestly, I'm not," Remy told her, knowing her pupils must have dilated at the mere thought of him. "I thought for sure he was going to tap out but he hasn't."

"Didn't you tell me you guys had sex in the morgue back before you broke up?"

Remy nodded as she swallowed a piece of her sandwich. A flash of that hot little excursion coursed through her like a brushfire. "Yup. That was the first and only time."

"That's fucking disgusting," Teddy grimaced.

Remy rolled her eyes at her. "God, it's not like we had sex on a corpse. There's a little closet down there. Completely out of the way." And if she wasn't so stubborn, she'd text him to meet her down there in about forty-five minutes.

"Still disgusting," Teddy contended, completely oblivious to the hormonal war raging inside her best friend.

Taking a sip of her tea to put out her flames, Remy clucked her tongue. "Please, it's more disgusting to have sex in the freezer where there's actual food that's consumed by people," she argued. "Bodily fluids and stuff on food. That's gross and dangerous. I should've called the board of health on you."

Teddy waved her hand in the air dismissing her objection. "Whatever, that man of yours is walking sex. I don't know how you do it."

Honestly, she wasn't sure where all of her resilience was coming from either. He was so sexy that touching him just never got old. "We fuck like rabbits when we get home," she laughed, feeling a fierce blush creep up her neck.

Teddy raised an eyebrow at her. "Home?"

Remy paused and looked at her curiously. "What?"

"Home?" her friend repeated with a knowing smirk.

"Yes, _home_… that place you go when you're not at _work_," Remy retorted. _Was Teddy being intentionally dense?_

"I know what home is," Teddy shot back. "It's the place where you _sleep_ and _live_. But you're home is a loft apartment about fifteen minutes in the other direction, not 221B Baker Street."

Remy leveled a stare at her friend. "You know what I mean." Now, she knew precisely where her overprotective best friend was going with this line of questioning.

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean," Teddy supplied. "When was the last time you two stayed at your place?"

Remy thought about it for a second because she honestly wasn't sure. She had been to her loft last week to pay her bills, but she didn't stay, instead, she grabbed a bag of clothes and headed back to House's apartment. She really hadn't been back since then because she'd done laundry at his place just the other night. Pushing that thought aside, she shrugged. "So what's your point?"

"I'm just saying," Teddy replied evasively.

"Just saying what?"

"That you spend an awful lot of time at his place and not at yours," Teddy answered nibbling on her breadstick.

Remy finished her sandwich and wiped her fingers with her napkin. "It's just easier to be at his place. Every time he's been at mine, he can't sleep. He can't take a shower because of the tub so it's just simpler for me to go there."

"It'd be simpler if you just moved in, Tink," Teddy said point blank. "It'd be a hell of a lot cheaper too."

Remy shook her head. "It's only been a few weeks."

"It's been six."

"Whatever."

"Whatever my ass," Teddy sniped. "Have you talked about moving in together?"

"No," Remy scoffed. "It's never ever come up and I'm certainly not going to."

"Why the hell not?" her friend demanded.

"Because," Remy protested. She didn't really have a reason; she just knew it would be a stupid idea to even mention such a thing. Bringing it up would feel like she was pushing him and that just wouldn't fly. It was totally on him to bring up such a serious step in their relationship.

"You can't keep living out of a suitcase and paying rent and utilities on an apartment you don't even use," Teddy pointed out. _Since when did Teddy become the voice of practicality?_

"I know," Remy sighed. "It's fine. Things are good. There's no need to rock the boat like that."

"What? Give me a break! He said he loves you right? Why wouldn't he want you to live with him? You're practically living there already."

"Because Teddy," Remy looked at her pointedly. "Things just don't work like that with House. If he doesn't come to it on his own then it doesn't happen."

"So you're supposed to just hang around and wait until it comes to him that he should ask you to move in," Teddy retorted incredulously.

"Yeah, pretty much," Remy stated. It sounded stupid and childish, but it was the truth and she was okay with that. She was in no hurry to rush things either. Things would happen in their own time.

"Tink, that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Whatever, you don't understand," Remy told her.

"You say that now, but it's going to get old really fast," Teddy alleged.

"So I'll deal with it then," Remy replied leaning back in her chair. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. "Besides, our boss still doesn't know about us. If I just up and changed my address to his, I think it'd give it away."

"Ya think!" Teddy snorted and then made a face. "How does she not know? Is she blind?"

Remy rolled her eyes. "She lives in this delusion when it comes to him. She only sees what she wants to see."

Teddy eyed her for a second. "She wants him?"

Remy shrugged and picked at a crumb on the table. "I think so. He's never said but I think they had a thing like a hundred years ago."

"Oooo, juicy," Teddy said with an excited grin. Remy pulled a face that she didn't actually mean to, causing Teddy to raise a curious eyebrow. "Remy, are you jealous of her?"

A little too quickly, Remy shook her head. "No! She's just… I don't know, maybe?"

"We'll he's not with her, he's with you."

"I know, but she prances around him like a bitch in heat," Remy grumbled. "It pisses me off."

Teddy barked a laugh at her. "Oh my god you're really jealous of her!"

"She's smart, successful and gorgeous," Remy said. "I might even do her, you know, if I wasn't so happily in love already."

"Oh, so she's your type? Now I'm getting a better picture, " Teddy laughed again. "What does he say about her?"

"That she's the Devil's whore and that she'd eat his brain and lay eggs in his dead corpse once she was done with him."

"Obviously he _so_ doesn't want to fuck her then," Teddy assured her. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"No, not with him," Remy said, "but with her… she's going to be pissed when she finds out about us."

"So what?"

"So what?" Remy parroted. "This is bad on so many level. One, she had know idea this was going on right under her nose. Two, he's my boss which is a sexual harassment nightmare for her. And three, he's completely unavailable to her now."

"She can't fire you for fucking him can she?"

"I would imagine she could," Remy guess. "It's not appropriate 'work place ethics'. I don't know if there's any real policy but… I'm pretty sure it's a problem."

"You two have been together for weeks now and it hasn't affected your performance," Teddy pointed out. "If anything, you said he's been more on point than ever before."

"Yeah, he's definitely less cranky," Remy said. A sudden, untamed little smile stole over her lips and she couldn't help but let it grow, knowing that she had that twinkle in her eye.

Teddy leaned forward and smiled at her. "You're happy."

Grinning, Remy ran the back of her fingers over her lips. "Yeah, I am."

"That's so good, Tink." Teddy gave her a pleased look and then doubled back. "I mean, I'm not in love with him because I still think he's an asshole, but he's… good for you, if that's at all possible."

"You're overwhelming endorsement is so heartwarming," Remy chuckled.

"Well, I can't exactly gush over him. I have to maintain appearances," Teddy protested as she chuckled, totally full of crap. "He is still a douche bag… he's just slightly less of a douche bag because he makes you happy so I'll give him that."

Remy looked at the time on her iPhone. "I should get back to the hospital."

Teddy frowned. "I know."

They picked up their check and paid. Once they were out by their cars, Teddy hugged Remy tightly. "I miss you girl."

"I miss you too," she told her friend.

"Go back to Dr. Crankypants," she said stepping toward her car. "I'll see you soon."

Remy bid her good-bye and drove back to the hospital. She ran into Taub in the lobby on her way in. He was coming out of the cafeteria from lunch. The results of the preliminary blood tests were back.

"You want to go tell him or should I," Taub asked her with a look that begged her to be the sacrificial lamb.

"Where is he?" she questioned.

"He's in the clinic," Taub said meekly with a glance through the glass door. Remy's eyes followed his. House was standing at the counter. He made some sort of comment to the nurse on duty because she rolled her eyes at him and forcefully took the chart out of his hand causing him to glare at her in response. _Remy smiled inwardly, he just loved clinic duty so much_…

Bringing her eyes back, Remy smirked at Taub. "What? Are you afraid to go talk to him?"

Taub shuffled and shook his head. "No… he's… it's just… he's still pissed at me for overruling his decision last week about the 8 year old with juvenile RA."

Remy rolled her eyes at him. "You were right. He knows you were right. He wants you to think outside the box like that because it challenges him. That's why he hired us."

Taub pursed his lips and shrugged noncommittally. "That and Cuddy blackmailed him into doing his clinic hours he owes her for you, so… he's extra special fuzzy today…"

Remy grabbed the folder out of his hand and opened it to read the print out. After a few moments, dissatisfied with what she read, she strode in the direction of the clinic. House was still at the nurse's station. This time he had a new chart in his hand and was sucking on a lollipop. She approached him and thrust the folder in his way. He slid her a glance and he pushed the folder back in her direction.

"Lets not pretend like I'm going to read that when you're going to tell me the results anyway," he said evenly.

"No titers for Lyme, Epstein bar, Lupus, RA or Sjogren's," she told him.

He made a face and sighed, resignedly taking the chart from her hand. Squinting because he didn't have his glasses on, he let out a frustrated groan and began to tap his chest coat pockets with his free hand as he held the chart and his cane in the other.

Without thinking, Remy reached her hand out and fished in his opposite side pocket, plucking out the wayward glasses. She handed them to him and he placed them on his face. "Thank you," he muttered with a quirk of a smile and began to read the print out. Remy noticed out of the corner of her eye that Dr. Cuddy had joined the nurse at the counter and that both women were trying to appear like they weren't watching the two of them, though failing miserably. It couldn't be more obvious what they were staring at. Remy turned her back to ignore them as House continued to read the chart.

He took his glasses off and ran his hand over his face. "The CPK is a little high. Check his thyroid and do a contrast MRI of his spine."

Remy frowned. "You're thinking MS? He's 48, it usually presents before 40."

"He's athletic and has had multiple knee surgeries," House stated. "He could have had delayed symptoms because of good muscle tone and control. Who knows, he might have been presenting with fatigue and pain but pushed through it because of 'no pain, no gain'." He grit his teeth together and bulged the veins out in his neck, grunting like an Olympic Power-lifter.

Remy burst out laughing at his ridiculous expression. She touched her hand to his arm and shook her head. "I'll go schedule the test."

He smiled at her as he turned and limped toward the exam room. "Hey, did you eat yet?"

"I just came back from lunch with Teddy," she told him.

He nodded and gave her a little frown as he rolled his eyes at the mention of her friend. "Ok."

"Do you…" she began and stopped herself, thinking better of it.

He tipped his head to the side, not missing her intention. "I'll text Wilson."

"Right." She gave him a little smile. Turning on her heal, she went to leave the clinic. Before she pushed through the door, she caught Cuddy staring at her with watchful eyes. The hospital administrator crossed her arms over her tweed suit jacket and set her jaw curiously before flashing her a tight smile. Remy smiled brightly back and went up to do her job.

There was no way their boss could claim that either of them weren't doing their jobs. And Remy certainly wasn't going to give the woman ammunition to shoot her down. She was a good doctor and Cuddy would just have to get over it.


	51. Chapter 51

The Gauntlet

Chapter 51

House was at a loss for what was going on with Studly Gym Teacher Guy. He couldn't figure out why the man was loosing feeling in his hands and feet, running hot and cold all around, unable to control his movements. House was frustrated, pissed off and the team's nerves were frayed to the max. He had sent Kutner and Foreman to run a particularly painful nerve conduction test to see what was going on in their patient's extremities. House, himself, had been feeling kind-of-sort-of, less then miserable, lately. His pain level was hovering below the excruciating mark to somewhere around mind-numbingly tolerable. It was still the dead of winter and he had another two long months of cold and then rain to go through before things started to look up in the weather department, which consequently meant the driving the motorcycle to work department.

House was rather looking forward to the springtime on the bike, with his old lady, Thirteen, on the back with him. She added a cool factor to the whole persona… gimpy old guy with a really fast bike and even faster hot chick on the back. He liked the idea of going for rides through the countryside with her. He could take her out to Delaware Water Gap and maybe Lambertville or New Hope where they had some of those funky shops run by the quirky gays and their overly creative imaginations. She'd love all of the weird stuff she'd find there. Hell, maybe he'd even go so far as to take her to the Poconos to one of those stupid lover's lodges with the champagne glass bathtubs and circle beds. They could have sex all weekend long and never have to leave the room. It was practically what they'd been doing every weekend all ready, but the novelty of it seemed kind of fun.

"What are you smiling about?" Thirteen asked as she signed the chart and placed it back in the slot by the nurse's station.

He looked at her and then put on his workplace-approved scowl. "You naked in a champagne glass with tons of cinnamon scented bubbles."

"I told you not to use my stripper name here at the hospital," she quipped with a smirk.

He let out a laugh and came up along side her. "Cinnamon or Bubbles?"

"That's Cinnamon Bubbles to you, mister," she jibbed.

"I've got a pole you could work, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her and then leaned his elbow casually on the counter surface.

"Sorry tough guy, that'll cost you extra," she replied, lifting her chin at him giving him that smile that made his heart race and fill his mind with naughty, naughty thoughts.

He stared down into her eyes for a second and blinked to get the image of her hanging upside down from a stripper pole in six-inch platform heals and nothing else from his inner movie screen. Taking in a swift inhale, he shook his head. "Maybe you should go and see what The Human Torch and Black Superman are doing. At least give the poor bastard something pretty to look at while they send electric shocks up his legs for an hour."

"Dr. House, are you going soft?" She raised one of her finely sculpted eyebrows at him and gave him a little smile. God, it was amazing how she could make his blood run hot with just a little flick of the corner of her mouth. But, then again, it was always the stuff that came out of the luscious mouth that sparked his mind into overdrive. Her wit turned him on almost as much, if not more than her body did.

He licked his lips and took a deep breath. She was utterly bewitching. "I'm gonna need to _go soft_ if I want any of my blood to run to the rest of my body today and you standing here smelling like cinnamon and caramel isn't helping."

She pushed out tiny, imperceptible little pout that only he recognized and he almost dragged her down the hall by her hair caveman style into the third floor janitor's closet. Her eyes sparkled deviously at him and he was suddenly irate with himself for bringing up any stupid rule that prohibited sex at work. Not like he hadn't been pissed off and frustrated about it before over the weeks since he'd said it but today was like a wading through a sea of virgins after getting out of prison. He was two seconds away from cracking.

"Fine, I'll go, " she sighed. "Wouldn't want your large brain to be deprived of oxygen for all that time, now would we?"

House fixed his mouth into an exaggerated contemplative grin. "It could have catastrophic results. People could die, lives could hang in the balance."

"Oh yeah, because you're all about the little people," she joked.

House smiled down at her. He reached his hand out and brushed her fingers lightly as he moved to step past her. The touch was subtle, fleeting and he was certain no one else could see it. It was their secret. Smiling, she blinked her thick eyelashes at him and then headed down the hall to the elevator. He caught himself staring after her and was shaken from his reverie but the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Cuddy.

Instantly, House narrowed his eyes at the hospital administrator. She was peering at him with that self-righteous smirk she wore when she thought she had something on him. He wondered what it was this time. Their patient was having a legitimate, neurological test done. He had even signed a pile of charts that were ridiculously overdue because Thirteen had bribed him with jell-o shots and a couple of rounds of pool after work last week. So unless she found out about the stink bombs he had rigged to go off in the clinic in approximately an hour… he had no idea why Cuddy would be feeling so erroneously triumphant.

"The trany prostitute convention isn't until next week," he quipped. "You're a little early for the festivities."

Cuddy merely smirked at him and grabbed him by the elbow, forcing him over toward the wall out of earshot of the nurse's station.

"Well, I suppose we could do a little preview if you're itching to go…" he proposed. "I'm always game."

"House…" She lifted her chin at him and brushed her bangs back away from her eyes as she stared pointedly at him. "Are you sleeping with Thirteen?"

Taken aback by her blunt inquiry into his sex life, he narrowed his eyes at her. "A little personal, don't ya think?"

She rolled her eyes at him and sighed. "You just called me a transvestite and a whore. I think we've obliterated the line of personal boundaries a long time ago."

House shifted his weight to his good leg and leaned on his cane. He had no intention of answering her. Because it was none of her damned business.

"Well?" she urged.

"If I was sleeping with her, then why would I tell you? Because, you'd get all irrationally jealous, and think that your best chance of getting a good sperm candidate just left on the last train from the station? And if I wasn't, then again, why would I tell you? Because maybe the fact that some young piece of ass might be interested in me, makes me look extra studly to you and your fellow cougars? Telling you anything is a lose-lose for me."

Cuddy huffed an impatient, well-practiced sigh. "She's your employee."

"Yes, she is."

"You're her boss."

"Last time I checked that's usually what you are when you have employees."

"And you're an ass," she added.

"Also true," he replied. "What is the purpose of this state the obvious contest?"

"I need to know if you're having an affair with one of your employees," she insisted.

House stared at her. "Let's say I was boning Taub, would that be equally inappropriate? Or would that be ok because he's older and a man? Or is the real issue that I might be having sex with a younger, more beautiful woman?"

"That holds no bearing on it," she insisted. "I'm merely trying…"

"Well, good," he cut her off, "because, Taub and I are in love and I'd like for you to stand up with me at our commitment ceremony, next month."

Cuddy snorted disgustedly in frustration. "You're no more gay than I'm Snow White and living with seven freaky little men."

House tipped his head to the side and frowned in consideration. "Taub could be one of those men," he offered. "He's little, troll-like and he's Jewish. Mama Cuddy would be pleased."

"Whatever," she threw her hands up in defeat. "Obviously, you don't want to tell me anything. But if you are having sex with her, this will come back to bite you in the ass, mark my words."

"Good, when you send one of your freaky little men to bite my ass, could you send Doc, because at least I could talk him into doing my clinic hours…"

"You're due in in an hour," she reminded him sharply, looking at her watch.

House smirked at her. "Oh, yes, with bells on."

"Do not be late or I'll tack on another three hours," she retorted.

"Are you sure that you're Snow White and not the Evil Queen? Because you sure are extra special bitchy today?"

"And you're extra special evasive," she retorted. "Don't think I can't see the writing on the wall."

"Well, it must be written in the secret invisible ink," he tossed at her, "because as far as I can tell there isn't anything to see."

Suddenly he felt a presence by his shoulder and a waft of his favorite scent wrapped around him like a warm blanket. What was she doing back? He turned his face to see her smirking countenance. "That must have been some miracle conduction test…"

Thirteen turned an overly cheery grin at Cuddy and then back at him holding out a clipboard. "Neurology needs you to sign off on the procedure before they'll let us take the patient down there."

"What is this bullshit?" he demanded perturbed at the bureaucracy. "We've never needed it before?"

Cuddy leveled a tight smile at him. "It's a new policy. All procedures must be signed by the attending before the patients are admitted for testing, didn't you get your memo?"

"What memo?" he feigned ignorance. He threw out any number of memos on any given day, most of which hade nothing to do with him or made-up stupid rules he never abided by anyway.

"That's the memo you orgamied into a vagina the other day," Thirteen reminded him.

"Oh that memo," he recalled with a wistful smile. "That was a good vagina."

"It was, " she nodded in agreement.

Cuddy flashed Thirteen her best head-mistress disapproving glare and then sighed turning her attention back to House. "That memo is designed to protect both the doctors and the patients from unnecessary tests and to streamline the billing procedures. If you would actually attend your department head meetings, you would have known that."

Thirteen eyed him with a cheeky smirk. Clicking the pen and giving him a wink, she handed him the clipboard. "Just your autograph right there," she practically cooed as she pointed to the line requiring his signature. _What the hell had gotten into her? _She was acting weird.

"Dr. Hadley…"

"Dr. Cuddy…"

House took the pen and scribbled something resembling his signature. When he glanced up from the paper he noticed Cuddy and Thirteen caught in a fierce staredown. Cuddy was glaring at Thirteen with her jaw set in a stuck-up sneer. Thirteen was icily staring back equally as puffed-up. It was all covertly disguised as smiles and professional pleasantries, however, they looked like two peacocks with their eyes flashing teal and slate getting ready to tangle. All they really needed was some bikinis, a referee and pit full of mud.

House narrowed his eyes in amazement. _What the fuck was going on?_ What had gotten them so antagonistic towards each other? They'd never had a friendly relationship but… this? This was odd. And then suddenly, it dawned on him. _Holy shit!_ They were jealous… _of each other!_ House could not believe his eyes. _Whoa… this was actually kind of exciting_.

Stepping back, he admired the scene feeling like a stud and a half compared to thirty seconds ago. Two gorgeous women were locked in a silent bitch slapping catfight with their eyes. Colors deepened, eyebrows twitched, lids slit and jaws angled. He could almost hear the claws coming out in swipe of metal against metal, like swords being unsheathed and preparing for battle. Fur and hair and skin and clothes were going to start flying any minute now. _All of this… over him_. Well, if he wasn't already King of the hospital, this certainly clinched it. He was sleeping with the hottest doctor in Princeton-Plainsboro and his boss, who was no slouch herself, was not so secretly envious of that fact. _Who was the man? House was the man_.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat. Slowly, the women broke eye contact and turned their stares at him. Feeling overly confident, he beamed a cocky smirk at them. Which was apparently not the reaction Thirteen was interested in seeing from him, since her mouth immediately dropped open into an indignant scowl. Cuddy on the other hand, stared sharply at him as if to scream from the rafters 'I knew it, I was right'. She too had that righteous look of indignation like she was ready to cut of his balls off and hang them out on the announcement board in the lobby for all to see. _Wait, how did this all of a sudden become his fault?_

House took another step back feeling like he was suddenly at the stake and the fire was about to be lit burn him in effigy for something that was not of his doing. He was confused. He'd gone from flirty to having his ego stroked to being the one to blame in the matter of ninety rapid seconds. Handing Thirteen back the chart with his needed John Hancock, he raised his cane up as a barrier between him and the she-devils flailing his skin off with their eyes. Sensing it was best to turn tail and run, he nodded his head curtly and fled in the opposite direction, ironically toward the clinic. He'd rather risk the putrid stench of his stink bombs than be exposed to one more second of this peculiar scene. This was definitely something he and Thirteen need to get clear and fast. Cuddy he could deal with later.


	52. Chapter 52

The Gauntlet

Chapter 52

_A/N: Hello, everyone! Can I just say how much I REALLY enjoyed Instant Karma… Fantastic House/Thirteen interaction. A couple of threads on Fox had to of course blast off on the minute possibility that there could actually be some true sexual tension between these two as if that were the union to bring the end of days… I say pooh! We all know how perfect they would be together! So even if it's a delusion in my own mind, I loved all 120 seconds of it!_

_Special thanks goes out to my faithful beta Kwaish… thanks for catching all of my boo-boos. And thanks to Vanamo for letting me bounce some ideas off her brilliant little head! And to my dear friend SpotandPunk… thanks for FINALLY hoping on board!_

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"Nerve conduction test shows ascending demyelination in all of the extremities," Thirteen's voice broadcasted as she pushed through the door coming into House's office. "Worst of it is in his feet."

Minimizing his window, House twisted quickly in his chair away from his computer screen to look at her. His lips pursed into a frown. _Ascending demyelination could be one of two things, neither of them really good._ "Axonal loss?"

"Not yet," she said coming over to rest her hip on the edge of his desk. "Foreman thinks it's CIDP."

House nodded. _Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyneuropothy_. It was the better of the two options that came to mind; the other was ALS, Lou Gehrig's disease. At least with CIDP, there was a chance of regaining motor control if the myelin sheath regenerated over time. ALS's prognosis ended in death. "Do a spinal tap and take a serum test for anti-ganglioside antibodies and start him on prednisone, plasmapheresis and IVIg."

"The boys are already on it," she said with a pleased little smile placing her hands in her pants pockets as she casually crossed her feet at the ankles. She was a little cocky. He wasn't sure he appreciated it or not.

House quirked a disgruntled eyebrow at her. "What? You guys don't check with me anymore before you start treatment?"

"Oh, come on," she pouted her full lips at him. "We were right. You just confirmed everything we talked about. You should be happy we actually figured it out on our own."

"Last time I checked, I was still the boss," he reminded her.

"Yes, and you are still the resident genius," she appeased, stroking his ego with her velvety voice. "And we most certainly do defer to your wealth of knowledge but this was a relatively easy one."

"CIDP is a very rare disease," he stated, "I'd hardly call it easy to diagnose."

"Yes, but not life threatening," she reminded him. "Gotta let the kids drive the car at some point."

House laced his fingers over his stomach leaning back purposefully in his chair. "Yeah, but you don't give the idiots the keys to the corvette without letting them drive the hatchback first."

Rolling her eyes, she chuckled at him. "This _was_ the hatchback, House. No cardiac arrests, no spontaneous bleeding… he didn't even stop breathing. Now _that _would have been the corvette."

"Whatever," he grumbled. She had a point but he wasn't going to admit it.

"You're just upset that we figured it out without you, while you were up here looking at porn," she quipped with a saucy smile, tapping his foot with the tip of her boot.

"New stuff posted on YouPorn this afternoon," he said leaning forward. One little smile and she had effortlessly disarmed him. She was right; he was going soft. He placed his palm along the edge of her knee and then began to run his hand up the inside of her leg. "I have my priorities."

"Obviously," she agreed and then tilted her head curiously, eyeing him as he slid his hand up further in between her thighs. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he lied with a devilish smile. He had been thinking about her all day since this morning when he realized that she was jealous about Cuddy. It turned him on to know that she had a little bit of a jealous streak and that she was a little possessive. He wanted her. He always wanted her but it was like a moral imperative now that he knew she had silently staked her claim in that heated battle of wills. It was hot and he liked it.

"Are you going to cave?" she quipped, subtly opening her legs to give him a bit more access to the juncture between her inner thighs.

House narrowed his eyes at her in consideration for a moment. It sounded like a challenge. _Who was he kidding?_ It was a challenge. "Not unless you cave first…" Keenly, he watched her cheeks and neck flush. The delicate line of her throat moved on a swallow as he trailed his middle finger up the curve of her center over the thin material of her pants. His eyes never left hers and he could see her irises deepen to that familiar shade of slate as she became aroused by his touch. House loved eye contact with her. It was so incredibly sexy they way she stared deeply into his eyes uninhibited and without fear.

"I'm sure they're done with the lumbar puncture," she said, "and the Plasmapheresis won't be given until tomorrow…"

"You're probably right," he agreed, tickling her again. He watched her breath catch in her throat and he smiled, pleased with his effect on her.

"It's almost dinner time," she announced breathlessly.

"Are you hungry?"

"Very," she replied and they both knew he wasn't talking about consumable sustenance. "Maybe we could go home and…"

"Get some?"

Her eyebrows arched and the corner of her mouth twitched into a grin. The tip of her tongue came out to wet her lips as she breathed out a sigh. House was lost in the moment mesmerized by the action of her mouth. Her every movement was seductive and alluring and she drew him into her mystique like he was puppet on a string.

Rising from his chair, House moved to within inches of her as she stood up fully in front of him. If they were any closer, they'd have no clothes on and be working out the untamed sexual tension that was escalating to a feverish pitch between them. Ever so slowly, he curled his fingers behind her neck and touched his lips to that spot where her tongue had moistened her lips to a soft warmth. They kissed slowly, deeply, languidly enjoying the taste of each other. The mere eight hours that they'd been at the hospital felt like an eternity that separated them as if they had been apart for weeks. Finally sated by the taste of her, House ended the kiss and pulled back slightly placing a light kiss on the tip of her nose with a smile.

"Let's go home," he murmured and she trailed her hand down the front of his chest indicating her agreement.

Just then, the glass door to his office swung open and they were propelled apart like opposing magnets, the warmth and serenity of their intimacy shattered. Cuddy entered the room with a suspiciously cheerful grin on her face. She had definitely noticed his proximity to Thirteen and she arched an eyebrow at him. Staring pointedly, she failed to make the obvious comment and instead, approached the desk with a friendly smile on her face. Thirteen turned around cautiously and slid House a curious look.

"Wilson and I are heading out to dinner," Cuddy announced. "We were wondering if you'd like to join us?"

House blinked at her for a beat and then drew his eyebrows together in confusion. Wilson and Cuddy went out to dinner almost every week. And they never asked him to come. Ever. Mostly because they knew he'd never want to go. _Why would tonight be any different? What the fuck was this all about?_ "You want me to go to dinner with you and Boy Wonder?" He actually couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud.

"Yeah, we haven't gotten together, the three of us, in ages," she replied, mistaking his mirth for appreciation. "Come on, it'd be fun."

House stared at her for a long moment trying to ascertain what had prompted this random invite. Cuddy had that expectant look of measured patience as she waited for his answer. Her eyes were telling him that he had better go or the rain of hellfire, or some other kind of annoyance, would come down on him if he didn't submit to burgers and fries with his so-called friends. Slicing his eyes to the side, he glanced at Thirteen. Her face was a blank, but her eyes were a subtle shade of steel and he knew she was miffed that Cuddy interrupted them by marching in and rudely inviting him out to dinner right in front of her. "Why do you want me to go?"

"What, do you have other plans?" she challenged with a haughty laugh.

"I might," he objected. As a matter of fact, he did. He was about to go home and have sex with his girlfriend, the woman standing right next to him whom she so conveniently ignored. But, as a matter of principle, he wasn't going to expose Thirteen to undue scrutiny. The pit viper already had her suspicions and she almost caught them kissing just thirty seconds before.

"Right, you never have anything to do." Cuddy laughed harder and Thirteen snorted quietly moving toward the door between the offices. "Put your coat on, you're coming with us."

"No. I'm not," he said flatly reaching behind him to grab his coat from his chair. He had no intention of going, especially not without Thirteen. "I'm going home." Putting his on his coat, he grabbed his cane and moved to leave.

Cuddy came over and threaded her arm though his as he rounded the corner of his desk taking him by surprise. "Yes. You owe me after that stink bomb incident this afternoon," she supplied with an edge. It was an order, not a negotiation. "Let's go. Wilson's waiting."

House stopped in his tracks at the odd display of affection… closeness… touch? He wasn't even sure what to call it. Cuddy hardly ever touched him, let alone stood within his personal space. It made him feel a little creeped out. Rolling his eyes, he sighed. Quietly, Thirteen had passed by them and was almost on her way out the door. _Wait, she was leaving?_ He wasn't going to just submit to this torture without her.

"Thirteen, you're coming too." He stated eyeing her, praying that she received his rescue signal loud and clear. They could delay their evening a bit until after this ridiculous attempt at a friendly dinner. Then they could pick up where they left off at home.

"No thanks, it seems like a popular kids' party," Thirteen retorted. "I'd just be in the way."

_Okay… not the signal he was sending at all…_ "Bah… who doesn't like the easy, pretty girl… just come…" he volleyed with an attempt at levity, hopeful that would cajole her into going.

Cuddy's grip tightened on his arm and suddenly he felt a little like a tender little wolf pup stuck in the clutches of a jagged bear trap.

"I have to test the spinal serum for the AGA markers," Thirteen begged off, with a pointed edge. "Your underlings' work is never done."

House stared at her. _What the hell was she doing?_ They both knew this diagnosis wasn't life threatening. It wasn't imperative that she do that now. Besides, she had just said that the rest of the team was in Pathology doing the test already. They didn't need her there.

Thirteen smiled flatly at him. She was upset. He knew it. He was too but he was kind of stuck. Cuddy wasn't relenting and she had already almost castrated him for having to close the clinic for three hours earlier this afternoon because of his stink bomb stunt. He didn't really care that he owed her, but he really didn't see a way out of it without throwing Thirteen under the bus and announcing their relationship. Here they were again, stuck in a quandary as to what to do. Admit to having a relationship and possibly jeopardize their jobs or sacrifice time together to keep their personal business private.

"She obviously has work to do," Cuddy interjected tightly, drawing his attention back to her still holding onto his arm.

House looked at her again on his arm and grimaced in irritation. Now he was just annoyed. Shaking out of her clutches, he stepped aside. He was going to tell Cuddy that she could forget the whole thing and that he was going home with his girlfriend, but Thirteen was already gone. Sighing in frustration, he dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes for a second. Women gave him such a headache. It was no longer fun that they were jealous of each other. It was annoying and it was beginning to mess with his whole work-life balance. Not like it was really all that balanced, more like a teeter-totter with a fat kid at the bottom, but it worked for him, even if it was dysfunctional. And now it just wasn't.

"Shall we?" Cuddy prompted with a coquettish smile that grated on him like nails on a chalkboard.

"Yeah, you go ahead, I'll meet you there," he told her. She gave him the name of the place and then trotted out. There was a spring in her spiked heals as she click-clacked her way back to the elevator. Somehow, she felt like she had won and that pissed him off.

House had no intention of actually showing up, however. He had lied to get her out of there. He just wasn't interested in having dinner with her and Wilson. He ate plenty with Wilson and now his girlfriend was pissed because he once again couldn't own up to having a real committed relationship with her. It wasn't really his fault; Cuddy put him in a spot. But ultimately it was. And now he had to go find her and apologize for something he didn't even really do.

Except he couldn't find her. When he showed up at Pathology she wasn't there. "Where's Thirteen?"

Taub looked up from the microscope. "We haven't seen her since the results of the NCT."

"She wasn't here. She was with you," Kutner said from his microscope.

"Obviously not anymore," he barked and then ran his hand over his face.

"Text her," Foreman suggested. "Oh wait you can't because doofus, here, electrocuted her phone during the NCT."

House stared at the neurologist and then looked at Kutner like he was the dumbest klutz in the world. He leaned heavily on his cane becoming weary. "You electrocuted her phone? How exactly does one do that?"

Kutner grinned sheepishly trying to suppress his laugh. At least he was amused by his complete ineptitude if no one else. "Electro probes arc when you hold them within four inches of each other. It's pretty cool."

Taub tilted his head to the side boredly. "Yes, and they arc to electronic objects within a foot of them. Did you know here ringtone for you was _Sexyback_? It played over and over _and over_ until she finally had to take the battery out."

Rolling his eyes, he let out a grunt. "Yes, Justin Timberlake wrote that with me in mind," he groused. "Any idea where she might be?"

Foreman frowned apologetically. "Sorry, no. We thought you two would be going home."

_Yeah, that was the plan..._ "Ok…" House dragged in an irritated breath to regroup. "Tomorrow, you're buying her a new phone," he declared pointing at Kutner. The young doctor nodded in agreement, a little smile tipping at the corners of his mouth. House shook his head. _Idiot_. "You," he pointed at Foreman, "Text me if anything changes and don't let Asshole touch anything electric for thirty days. He's grounded. Literally and figuratively." House turned to Taub. "And you, prepare for our commitment ceremony, we're getting married if Cuddy asks."

Taub narrowed his eyes at him in utter confusion. "What?"

"Just roll with it," he said and trekked out the door. This was turning into a shitty night even without to Cuddy's interference. House had to go find his girlfriend. With any luck, he'd be able to salvage what was left of it.

_Sexyback, huh?_ _That was kind of cool_.


	53. Chapter 53

The Gauntlet

Chapter 53

Remy fished her keys out of her messenger bag as she rode the elevator up to the door of her apartment. It had been a while since she'd been back so the key ring was buried deep at the bottom under her senseless file notes and dictations. She didn't know why she brought them home because she never actually got to do any work. House would usually talk her into having a beer and watching TV on the couch and that was so much more enticing than dry medical charting. Tonight, she wasn't going to get to them either, since she'd been to Teddy's for dinner. They sat and bitched for while about that vapid whore and a half who ruined her evening before Remy decided it was time to go home. She wasn't really in the mood to fall asleep on Teddy's couch and spend the night.

Finally, she found the elusive keys as the elevator doors opened to her floor. Remy was tired and cranky. And she was actually glad that idiot, Kutner, fried her phone because she probably would have done something stupid like drunk-text House to cut off his dick and douse it in alcohol to kill the Cuddy-cooties before he came back to her expecting sex anytime soon. Just the thought of that slut touching him made Remy want to claw the woman's eyes out with a dull plastic soupspoon.

Ok, so maybe she was being a little immature, but she was pissed. She was so looking forward to spending the evening naked with him. She had just come off her period and while all of the cuddling was nice, she was jonesing for a good, sweaty fuck. And that stupid, conniving whore had to go and fuck up her whole mojo.

Remy stopped short as she rounded the corner and saw two sneakered feet connected to some faded jeans sticking out past the edge of the wall. _Great. _He was here… camped out at her door like he was waiting for the midnight train at Grand Central Station. Closing her eyes, she breathed in a sigh and edged closer. Briefly, she wondered how long he'd been waiting. It was after 10pm and his eyes were closed like he might be sleeping.

"What are you doing?" she asked putting her hand on her hip as she came to a stop in front of him.

House opened his eyes and raised his brows a fraction of an inch as he looked up at her. Frowning, he pushed out an aggravated huff. "Back so soon?"

Remy cringed a little at his tone. It had a caustic edge. He wasn't happy. _Good, that made two of them._ But she did feel a little bad, however, that he had to wait outside and sit on the floor. He had apparently been waiting a while and his leg was probably going to pay him back in spades for that.

Holding her hand out to him to help him up, he ignored her and made no effort to move from his spot. Instead, he cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow in irritation. "Where have you been for the past three hours?"

"I went to see Teddy," she answered dropping her outstretched hand to her side. Why she felt like that was a betrayal was beyond her but yet, somehow it did. "She was off tonight. We had dinner."

"Great. How come I don't have a key to your place?" he ground out sharply.

"Because we're never here," she answered him simply, giving him an indifferent shrug. It was the truth. There was no real reason other than that. "You just never needed one."

"I should still have a key," he stated. "For times, like this…"

"Really?" she snorted stepping over his legs to unlock the door. "We plan on having other evenings like this?"

With a grunt, he heaved himself off the floor and stood up beside her as she pushed the door open. His limp was heavy and pronounced as he followed her into the musty stale air of the apartment. Yeah, his leg was getting him back for sitting on the chilly floor. _Idiot, he should know better._ Turning on the overhead light in the dining room, Remy took off her coat and tossed it to the back of the chair by the sofa. He didn't say anything; he just sort of stalked back and forth in the open space leading up to the kitchen.

"So, how was dinner?" she asked pointedly. Her tone was cheerful but she knew it came out with a bitchy edge. They were skirting around a fight and she knew that it was going to be solely her fault when it happened.

"I didn't go to dinner," he told her stopping in front of her. "I blew them off, so that I could spend time with you."

_Really? That was a surprise._ However, she didn't like his attitude at all. His words came out like a scathing accusation. "You say that like you wanted to go," she replied. "Like it was my fault you didn't? As if I told you not to?"

He shook his head. "No. I didn't want to go and you knew it, but you made that stupid excuse of going to run the test you know you had no reason to run because the team was already doing it. You could have gone with me and…"

Remy's mouth dropped open in unrestrained shock. _Was he serious?_ "Did you really think I was going to go after she so obviously excluded me from her little dinner party," she retorted angrily. "It was clear she wanted nothing to do with me. She was soooo fishing for a reaction from you."

"I know exactly what she was doing," he shot back. "But she came up empty handed…"

"No, she got exactly what she wanted," Remy hollered incredulously. "She got us to not spend the night together."

He screwed his face up into a disgruntled frown. "Right because you had a hissy fit and walked out leaving me holding the bag. So, instead of going, I spent the last three hours sitting outside your apartment waiting for you to come home."

"I never asked you to do that," she replied as she watched him stalk away from her. "That was your choice. So, I don't understand why you're mad at me?"

House wheeled around on her like she was crazy. "If you had just waited two seconds before leaving in a pissy huff, I was going to tell her to fuck off and that I was going home to fuck my girlfriend instead."

Remy crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. _Right, like he was actually going to out their affair to their boss…_ She wasn't sure she believed him. "You were really going to tell her?" _Oh god, she sounded like a little girl…_

"Yes! I'm tired of this hiding shit," he complained.

Remy tossed a challenging glare at him. "Why haven't you told her before?"

"Because it's none of her fucking business," he supplied. "People have affairs all over the hospital all of the time and she could care less so long as the job gets done. Why should my personal life be any different?"

"Because she wants you for herself," she retorted stabbing her finger at his chest.

"That's irrelevant," he objected looking down at her finger and then slicing his eyes back up to hers.

"Irrelevant?" Even she cringed at the screeching quality of her voice. She shook her head in self-deprecation, censoring her next comment.

He narrowed his eyes curiously at her. "Why are you so jealous of her?"

Remy rolled her eyes and then cast her gaze down to the floor as she realized how childish she was behaving. "I don't know."

He stepped closer to her and dipped his head to see into her eyes. Turning her head, she looked away and he sighed in frustration. "You do know," he insisted, this time more gently.

Pausing for a second, she stared out into the darkness of the kitchen before bringing her eyes back to look intently at him. "Because it just pisses me off that she flits around you with her tits hanging out and her ass squeezed in those tight skirts. She does it solely to get your attention."

"So?" he stared at her.

"So, it irks the shit out of me," she reiterated. "I don't want her anywhere near you."

"This whole thing is ridiculous. She is the boss, you know. And unfortunately she has to be in my general vicinity," he said.

"I know," she shouted. Raking her hands into her hair she let out a frustrated growl and then started to chuckle. _God, this was so stupid_. He took a step backward uncertain about her sudden change of direction. "I know, I know, I know!" Remy repeated. "I fucking hate it, but she makes me crazy."

"Welcome to my world," he grumbled with an eye roll.

Suddenly, the total insanity of the situation came over her and Remy felt a deep laugh come up from her belly through her chest. He was right as usual; it _was_ all so ridiculous. Laughing she stepped closer to him and brought her hands around his neck, mock-choking him before she let go and embraced him in a hug. He brought his palms to her sides and then encircled her waist in his hands. He chuckled into her neck and then let out a sigh before pressing his lips to her pulse point behind her ear.

"Why didn't you tell me that Kluztner electrocuted your phone so I had no way of getting in touch with you?"

Remy sighed wearily and buried her nose against the scruff on his neck inhaling the heady scent of his skin. "Thank god he's brilliant because I'd really have to kill him," she said touching a kiss to the spot where her lips met his pulse. "I'm so sorry. I forgot until I was already on my way over to Teddy's. Plus, I assumed you were already occupied so I didn't think that you were sitting outside of my door."

His hands worked their way up her back and held her tightly to him. "You know there are going to be times when we're not going to spend the night together."

"I know, why are you telling me?" she inquired with a laugh. He had said it like he was trying to remind himself. "You're the one who was camped out in the hallway. You could have been home sleeping on your couch."

She felt his shoulders shrug under her face. "I know. I'm just saying…"

Remy smiled inwardly. He was a big softy underneath the gruff exterior he showed everyone else. The truth was he needed to be with her every night. It made him happy. Aside from the brief week of their break up, since they first started sleeping together, they had only spent three nights apart. One was by choice because they both needed some space after a young patient died; and the other two were because she'd been at the hospital running tests all night for other patients. Ononly one of those nights did he actually stay at the hospital; and that was tosleep in his chair, because it was snowing out and too dangerous to drive home. But, Remy knew it was really because he didn't want to be alone.

It was a simple fact. House wanted to be with her all of the time. Spending so much time together wasn't something Remy was used to. Usually, the men she dated would see her once or twice a week and then on weekends. But, he wanted her there every single night snuggled up next to him on the couch and then again later in bed. Teddy said he was clingy, but Remy knew it was because he needed to feel something other than pain. He needed to feel connected to something. And she was oddly okay with that. It was nice. Then again, she was in love with him and that was a first for her too, so she supposed that love meant being okay with the odd quirks of your partner.

"I'm sorry I walked out," she said pulling back to look into his face. "I'm an idiot for being jealous."

"Yeah, you are," he said with a chuckle. She smacked at his arms and then laughed. No matter how annoying he was, she couldn't be mad at him for very long.

Remy trailed her fingers along the front of his coat and slipped her hands into his lapels to push it off of his shoulders. "Did you actually get to eat?"

"Yeah, I went for pizza after I realized you weren't home yet and then came back about an hour ago," he said letting her slip his coat off his arms, replacing his hands on her back and then up under the hem of her sweater. His fingers were warm against her skin, smooth yet masculine, electrifying the spot where they rested.

"Good," she whispered running her tongue along the edge of his lip. "Then we can finally pick up where we left off."

He plunged his hands high up into her sweater, cupping her shoulder blades and pulling her into him. Letting out a feral growl, he dragged his lips up the column of her neck to the corner of her jaw. "I've been waiting all night for that."

Giggling, Remy let him take her off sweater…

This was exactly what Cuddy had tried to stop. But in the end, Remy had won. House was here with her and they were picking up exactly where they had left off.

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_A/N: I have to send out special love to Digital Buddha for that glorious review you gave me a few chapters ago. I am remiss for not mentioning it last note, so I'm including it here albeit a bit late. Your praise makes me so proud and I am glad to keep you entertained. But seriously…. Get a login so we can PM each other already!_

_Cheers!_


	54. Chapter 54

The Gauntlet

Chapter 54

House tipped back and forth in the big leather chair, rocking patiently as he studied the swirling design on the ceiling tile above his head. He wondered if the designs were put there for aesthetic purposes because they were random and actually quite ugly. They didn't make sense; just a bunch of dots, haphazardly littering the rectangular space. But, he supposed that they were put there for people like him who had to occupy themselves with the mediocrity of life while waiting for their best friend to deign to come to work so they could bitch about what the fuck they were thinking when they agreed to let their boss make dinner plans for them.

Finally, the door to the office opened and House swiveled around in the chair. Wilson jumped at the sudden movement; he was clearly not expecting anyone to be in there. And why should he? House was sitting in the dark.

"Good, God…you scared the life out of me," Wilson wheezed, switching on the light and entering the room fully now that he knew his intruder wasn't going to ax murder him. _Though, after last night, House was tempted_…

"No need for compliments," House quipped flatly.

Wilson rolled his eyes at him and deposited his briefcase and coat by his coat rack. "Why are you in my office? At…" he checked his watch, "8:15 in the morning?"

"Hmm, lets see…" House held his thumb and forefinger on his chin in mock contemplation. "I seem to remember a dinner last night. One in which, you and the evil succubus partook in."

Wilson narrowed his eyes speculatively at him as he put on his lab coat preparing for the day. "Yes, I went to dinner with Cuddy last evening. It was Thursday. We always have dinner on Thursday."

House tilted his head pointedly at him. "I know."

"I know, you know. So why are you asking?" He looked wary, cautious… like maybe he was pretending to not be culpable…

"That's a good question," House drawled bouncing the tip of his cane off of his Chuck Taylor's on Wilson's desk.

Wilson sighed in irritation and furrowed his brow. "What is this about, House? Because, I really don't have time to play one of your convoluted mind games this morning."

"_Et tu Brute_… you never want me to go to dinner with you and She-who-must-not-be-named, why now all of a sudden?"

Wilson stared at him and rounded the corner of his desk to come to stand over him. "I don't know what you're talking about," he stated and tipped his chair forward, effectively dumping House's feet onto the floor and out of his seat in the process.

Limping away from the desk, House palmed two Vicodin and dry-swallowed them down. His leg was still bothering him from sitting outside Thirteen's door on the cold floor for an hour last night after he'd come back from pizza. Stupid, but ultimately worth the aggravation.

"So, what you're telling me is that you didn't conspire with Cuddy to have me come to dinner with you?" he accused.

Wilson paused and looked at him before taking his seat, now thoroughly confused. "What? Conspire with… House, I really have no idea what you're talking about. Cuddy and I went to dinner like we usually do."

House folded himself into the chair opposite the oncologist's desk. He contemplated this for a minute and then shook his head. Sometimes Wilson was a really good liar, but he seriously looked like he might actually be innocent. "She planned it herself."

"Wait," Wilson held his hand up to him. "What exactly did she do?"

"Cuddy came into my office last night, directly from your office, and told me that the two of you decided you wanted me to come to dinner with you."

"Hell no," Wilson scoffed. "I know what a royal nightmare that would be."

"Exactly, so why the hell is she dragging you into her twisted little manipulation?"

Wilson shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she felt like if she had my presence in her corner she could get you to go? Why she'd want to do that, I have no idea."

"She thinks that if she pretends to be interested in me, that I'll give up the truth about my relationship with Thirteen," House replied the idea dawning on him as he said it.

Blinking, Wilson shook his head. "That's the dumbest thing I ever heard."

House shrugged. "Uh yeah… she's definitely not interested in me so the question is, why does she care?"

Wilson frowned in contemplation for a second. "Maybe she thinks that she'll finally have some leverage on you if she knows that you care about Thirteen?"

"What like blackmail?" House scoffed.

"More like, if you don't toe the line she'll fire your girlfriend?" It was certainly within the scope of her repertoire. The she-vixen was not above emotional extortion.

"If she thinks that's going to happen, she's in for some serious backlash," House replied running his had over his jaw, menacingly.

"Maybe if she knows that she'll lose you and your… unique specialty… then she won't be so inclined to threaten you?" Wilson suggested.

"You saying I should quit?" House countered.

"Maybe," Wilson said. "She's always boasted that she got you for cheap when no one else would hire you. Maybe now it's time to call her bluff?"

House considered this for a moment. His friend may have a point. That was twelve years ago and since then he'd become world-renowned. He'd saved senators, athletes, rich people, and even poor people. He could go to virtually any hospital. Problem was, at any other hospital, he would have to toe the line and follow protocol which was how he wound up with her in the first place. With Cuddy, House knew he had an ally because she understood when he was right and the things he wanted to do were risky but necessary. For as much of a pain in the ass she was, they worked.

"If it ever comes down to it, that may be my ace in the hole," House murmured and looked at Wilson. "But I think it _is_ time to call her bluff on the other part."

Wilson looked nervous. "Which part?"

"The pretending to want me part…"

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Thirteen passed by the corridor where House was lurking and he pulled her into the storage closet around the corner from the clinic. She gasped in surprise and he covered her mouth with his hand to stifle her objection. Not surprisingly, her gray eyes flashed at him in startled irritation.

"Shh, don't make any sounds," he whispered to her backing her against the door in the their cramped space.

She quietly seethed at him shooting daggers out of her eyes but nodded her acceptance. It was a little disturbing that she so readily accepted this as normal behavior. _God, he loved her…_ Trusting that she wouldn't give their position away, he removed his hand from her mouth.

"What the fuck are you doing," she whispered forcefully at him.

"You trust me, right?"

"Of course," she replied.

"You love me, right?"

"You know I do," she said with conviction but looked at him questioningly. "What is going on?"

Moving a broomstick out of his ass, he flashed a smirk at her. "I'm going to get Cuddy off our backs once and for all."

Staring at him for a moment, she tried to make head or tails of what he was saying and why he had to pull her into the closet to tell her this. "What are you going to do?" she demanded beginning to look extremely concerned and then irritatedly swiped at a string from an exam gown that was hanging over her head.

"Nothing that will get us fired," he promised. _Ha… famous last words_.

She looked dubious. _Truth be told, rightfully so_… "Are you sure?"

"Come on, this is me we're talking about," he assured her, trying to add as much confidence inspiring gusto as he could, "How bad could it be?"

Her lips formed a sardonic line as her eyes rolled at him impatiently. "That exactly what I'm worried about."

"I don't want you to do anything stupid and ruin it," he told her. "I just need to know you're on board."

"Well if I don't know what it is you're planning then I'm not promising anything," she told him stubbornly crossing her arms in the tiny space between them.

Rolling his eyes, he let out an exasperated but quiet sigh. And then told her his plan.

When he was finished, she had a devious smirk on her face. "Oh she definitely deserves that. Go for it."

Triumphant, he smiled and placed a swift kiss on her lips. "Excellent."

Biting the corner of her lip with her teeth she walked her fingers up the buttons of his shirt. "Hey, since we're in here… you wanna?"

For a split second his eyes flicked around contemplating the logistics of that, but then he decided not to and leveled a disapproving glance at her. "Um… that would totally defeat the plan to have her smell you on me. Don't you think?"

Rolling her eyes, she pouted at him. "Fine, you're right." Moving a scant inch back from him, she brushed her hands over her hair. "Pain in my ass."

"Bitch," he retorted.

"Love you," she smiled.

"Love you too," he pecked her lips and the reached for the doorknob behind her back. "Wait five minutes and then leave."

Nodding a sigh, she sidestepped out of his way and he was out the door. "Oh this is going to be fun…" he muttered to himself with a smile as he limped down the hallway toward the main area in the clinic.

House spied right Cuddy right away standing near the nurse's station in a red low-cut top and tight gray tweed skirt. Her hair was soft and shiny and she looked like she had put just the right finishing touches on her make-up that morning to make her eyes sparkle with that extra-special silvery glimmer. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was on the prowl. He did have to give it to her. For a woman on the shy side of forty, she did _rock the bod_ pretty well. Soccer moms would kill to have her ass. Birthday party cupcakes and chicken fingers with mac n' cheese were not in her vocabulary.

Coming up along side of her, House flashed her a 5000 kilowatt grin. "Dr. Cuddy, looking ever so fabulous today. Hair cut, I presume?"

She smiled at him cautiously, though her inner girl was happily preening on the inside. "Same hair as I had yesterday."

"New sweater then?" he guessed, leaning over onto his elbow on the counter.

"No, had this one last year," she replied handing the nurse a chart giving her a glance of concern for his unusually pleasant demeanor. Even the nurse quirked an eyebrow.

House dropped his chin to his hand and studied her keenly like a schoolboy with a big crush on the pretty cheerleader. "What is it then? You're absolutely glowing. Don't you think she glowing?" He pivoted to the nurse who was enjoying the exchange with a suppressed chuckle.

Narrowing her eyes at him, Cuddy raised her chin catching on to his game. "What do you want House?"

He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, "Me? Want something? I'm paying you a compliment. Is it really so hard to believe that I find you exceedingly attractive today?"

"Frankly, yes," she replied taking another file from the outbox on the counter.

"Well, maybe I'm just voicing something that everyone else has been noticing lately," he projected.

Rolling her eyes at him, she took off in the direction of her office. Coming off the counter he limped after her. "OH. MY. GOD… Do you have a new man in your life?"

She stopped in her tracks and turned around to stare at him in incredulity. "What?"

"You're glowing… like a woman who's in love… or with a bun in the oven," he announced loudly, and then pointed when she turned pink with embarrassment at his outburst. "You are! You're blushing… Who's the lucky guy?"

"You're being an idiot," she said tightly. "Stop." Turing on her heal, she tried to escape from him into her office but he relentlessly trailed after her.

Hot on her tail, he knew she was uncomfortable with his attentions so he decided to push it further. Swinging the door open he followed her in. "Who is this guy? Have I met him? What's his name?" He came up behind her following her to her desk. "What does he do for a living? Is he handsome? Sexy?" She was about to round the corner but her reached out and clasped her arm. "Have you had sex with him yet?"

Trying to shrug out of his grasp, she jerked her arm but he held on firmly. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"I'm trying to find out just who this creep is who's crouching in on my territory," he fibbed outrageously. Well that struck a nerve because she stared at him in blatant contempt.

"Let go of me," she said coolly. He had her ire up but the was a flash of excitement in her eyes. It was like raising the red cape in front of a bull.

House went in for the kill. "No. Who is this guy?"

"Why do you care?" she spat.

House almost laughed. But, he kept himself in character. "I care because I don't want him touching you." He pulled her closer to him wrapping his arms around her waist causing her hands to go reluctantly to his chest. He tugged her against the length of him and her demeanor changed instantaneously. He almost felt bad but his self-preservation took control. Biting back a smirk at the worry that had replaced the excitement in her eyes, he forged on. "We belong together, Lisa. I've tried to ignore my feelings for so long. I've fought myself, thinking it would never work, because we work so closely together, but damn it Lisa, I can't deny it any more."

He leaned close like he was going to kiss her and she pushed at his chest squirming to get out of his way. But he couldn't stop now. He had to finish. "You've always been the one, the one woman who knows me. The one I've saved myself for… Lisa we're destined to be together…" She froze underneath him and dropped her mouth open in bemused shock. He couldn't help it and smiled, caught in his outrageous play. "Too much? Shoulda stopped at 'couldn't deny it anymore'?"

"You mother fucker," she shoved at his chest and this time he let her go. Her eyes had bugged out to the size of ping pong balls as she snorted indignantly, affronted by his teasing. Laughing despite herself, she tugged on the hem of her sweater and escaped behind the safety of her desk barricading herself from him with 36 inches of wood and a stack of files between them. "I should bring you up on sexual harassment charges."

"Right," he challenged folding himself casually into the seat in front of her. "And so should I for you flaunting your ass in front of me for the past twelve years."

"I can't help it if the way I dress excites you," she declared with a little pride, still clutching the stack of folders to her chest like a life preserver. _Good, he rattled her._

"You most certainly can help it," he complained. "But I definitely have a case for you butting your big Jewish nose into my personal sex life."

"And yet, I also have a stack of anti-Semitic complaints against you," she held her hand out as if to say 'go figure' once again annoyed by his antiestablishment philosophy. "I could fire you in a heartbeat."

"But you won't. You'll no sooner fire me than I'll stop making racist, sexist comments about you, Foreman, patients or whoever," he challenged. "I can pretty much get away with anything because you know I'm the best stallion in your stable. And I mean that figuratively not literally, just incase you were still…"

"I know what you meant." She rolled her eyes at him and scoffed. "Just because you're the best at what you do House doesn't mean the rules don't apply to you."

"I haven't broken any rules…" he countered and then tipped his head to the side, "…lately." He regarded her for a moment. "But you think that if I admit to a relationship with my subordinate that you'll be able to hold it over my head to keep me in line."

She arched a sharp eyebrow at him, challenging him to answer that question, holding onto her last vestige of hope that she was correct in her assumptions. "So is that an admission?"

"No… but if I were…" he shot back, "you really think that I still wouldn't have the upper hand? Do you even know me?"

She set her files down with a sigh, knowing he was right. She only won when she had life or death in her court or serious jail time. Right now she had neither. He smirked at her. "You can't win."

Rolling her eyes, she clucked her tongue at him. "Fine."

"So do we have a truce?" he negotiated.

Quirking an eyebrow at him, she paused a beat and then nodded. "I'll keep my big Jewish nose out of you sex life."

"Good," he replied, satisfied. Standing up, he limped toward the door.

"House," she called.

He turned around before reaching the door to see that she had sat down in her desk chair. Resting her chin in her hands, she smiled compassionately at him. "Do you love her?"

Taking a breath, he nodded once.

"She's a good doctor. She understands you."

"Yep," he concurred.

"I'm happy for you."

"Good." He clasped the doorknob in his hand but her voice stopped him.

"Don't ever get that close to me again. I don't care how brilliant you are, I will fire your limping, tired old ass," she stated firmly.

Smirking, he limped out of her office. Balance was restored. Fat kid was back on the bottom of the teeter-totter, like he was supposed to be.

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_A/N: I forgot to thank blue-peridot for the Sexyback ringtone idea. Props to you! And for all you Cuddy lovers out there, I hope this smoothed it out for you. This was fun to write._


	55. Chapter 55

The Gauntlet

Chapter 55

Later that night, Remy sipped her diet soda reaching the last of it with a loud slurp of the straw against the bottom of her cup. Taking the lid off, she tipped a few ice cubes into her mouth and crunched on the icy chips as she watched House polish of the last of his fries and crumple up his burger wrappers into a baseball. He leaned back against the metal back of the chair with a sigh, tossing the paper ball onto the tray dismissively. He had finished and had clearly waited a mere thirty seconds too long. It was time to go. Except Remy wasn't in a rush so, she tipped a few more cubes onto her tongue.

Giggling, she eyed him over the rim of her paper cup. "I still would have paid a million dollars to see the look on her face when you leaned in to kiss her."

"I would have paid a million dollars to see you lean into kiss her," he replied.

"Oh well, now wouldn't that be the ultimate fantasy?" she quipped. "Hot witchy boss making out with your seductively alluring girlfriend. It'd be like 'Female Doctors Gone Wild'." Rolling her eyes, she slid in another cube.

"Yes, that would be hot," he grumbled, yanking the cup out of her hand and placing it on the tray. "Let's get what we gotta get and get the hell out of here."

He stood, sending his chair scraping back against the textured tile floor with a clatter that echoed through the cavernous ceiling of the food court. Remy knew how much House hated the mall. It was a necessary evil for him when he needed stuff. Half the time he'd order stuff online but if he really needed it quickly, he'd bite the bullet and make a venture into the mall. It was supposed to be a surgical strike, _in, out and done_. That was how she had convinced him to go this evening. She promised they would eat, get what she had to get and they'd be out.

Remy knew it made him be uncomfortable to be around crowds. He couldn't stand all of the people around him, lazily meandering their way through the open space five wide like elephants on parade. Not to mention that everything was so spread apart that it took a journey and a half to get from one end to the other. And God forbid he was behind someone with a baby carriage…. The worst offenders were the men with the baby carriage and the wife leading him around by his penis on the side. Those he really couldn't stand. Remy thought he might actually pop a vein in his forehead or shove his cane up some woman's extra large ass. Thank fully there weren't too many people even for a Friday night.

Without incident, they made a turn into Macy's and took the ride up the escalator to the second floor. Remy could smell the perfume as they approached the cosmetics counter when they rounded the corner. Weaving her way through the islands of perfume displays and makeup counters, Remy neared the Clinique booth, House reluctantly two steps behind her.

"Good God, there're like fifty-five shades of skin tone in there," he exclaimed coming up along side of her.

Ignoring him, Remy brought her attention to the perfectly coifed, flawlessly done up blonde woman who had approached them.

"Good evening, what can I help you with today," the woman chimed. She was wearing all black underneath a white lab coat, designed to make them look like specialists in skin care.

"I need a refill on my face powder, the light one for sensitive skin," Remy told her.

"In neutral-fair?" the clerk questioned though not really needing an answer.

"Yes," Remy replied. The woman was already reaching down into the large gleaming white drawer behind her to retrieve the disk refill on the compact.

Holding the small box in her hand, she turned with another brilliant smile. "Anything else this evening? Toner, cleanser?"

"Yes, I think I also need a new cleanser. My skin has been really dry lately." Remy told her, pointing to the areas on her forehead and cheeks.

"We're running a special this month," the blonde informed.

"Of course you are," House grumbled as he turned around and surveyed the outlying clothing departments.

The woman looked a little tripped up by his sarcasm but fell immediately back into step with her perfected sales pitch. "If you buy the cleanser and the moisturizer you receiver the toner and eye make-up remover for free."

Turning his attention back to the sales meeting, House leaned his elbow against the counter. "Doesn't the cleanser clean off the eye make-up too? Why do you need a special thing?"

It was the sales woman's turn to look annoyed. Knowing that it was best to just give him the justification then it was to have a debate with him, Remy explained. "Mascara tends to be waxier and builds up on your eyelashes and needs something more powerful to dissolve all of the residue. This eye make-up remover does that without leaving an oily, slimy feeling on your eyes."

That seemed to satisfy him because he pursed his lips together in agreement and was quiet for another couple of minutes.

"Now this cleanser is great for those dryer winter months and can take you into the summer without being too heavy." She pointed to another small jar of pink cream. "And this moisturizer is one our top sellers. I personally use this. It leaves my skin feeling baby-soft…"

"Oh my God!" House said suddenly staring at Remy liked he was in a panic. She looked at him curiously, confused as to what would have him so excited. "Remy, where's the baby?"

"What?" she questioned, stymied as to why he would ask her such a thing. And use her first name… _What the hell was he talking about?_

"Remy, _where is the baby_?" his voice got stern and he leaned into her. Remy froze for a second wondering what the hell had gotten into him. "Did you lose the baby again?"

Remy gasped at him in shock. The woman behind the counter looked horrified at the exchange. _What the hell was he doing?_ "House…"

"No we took the baby from the house with us," he continued, and loudly at that, other people were starting to turn around. "Where did you leave her?"

Remy blinked at him and then blinked again at the woman behind the counter who quite frankly looked like a deer caught in headlights. Remy didn't blame her. She laughed nervously and then shot him a look finally catching onto what he was doing. "Stop it."

"I can't believe you did this again," he continued in mock outrage, throwing his hands up in the air, letting his cane dangle from his fingers like a toy. "I can't believe you lost our baby! Again!"

_Fucker_… he was purposely embarrassing her to get this process to move along faster. _Well, two could play at that game._

Remy placed her hand lovingly on his arm, giving him a look of sheer pity. "Dad… Dad… you're having flashbacks. There is no baby. Take your Haladol. You'll be ok." She turned to the woman behind the counter and smiled apologetically. "I'm so sorry, they just let him off the Ward and well…" she shrugged in mock hopelessness. "As you can see, he still has a few set-backs."

House leaned on his cane and was staring at her in a blend of amazement mixed with newfound respect. He was impressed that she had picked up on his crazy-train and had actually taken it there, to the point of turning his own game on him, and nastily too. He smirked at her and she flashed him a saucy smile back.

"I'll take the moisturizer, cleanser and the powder, put it on the card," she said to the woman tossing her credit card onto the counter as House pulled her away by the hand and into his arms.

"You're shameless," he said touching his nose to hers. "You called me 'Dad'!"

Remy giggled. "Oh, this party's just getting started." Bringing her hands up around the back of his neck, she toyed with the little hairs at the base of his skull tickling him with her fingertips. His eyes held hers in mirth as he pressed a kiss to her lips. Remy was a little taken aback by his outward affection. _Hmm, PDA… this was new…_

The woman cleared her throat politely to grab their attention as she held out the charge slip for Remy to sign. Stepping out of House's embrace, Remy grabbed the pen and scrawled her signature on the little paper. She took the proffered bag of her cosmetics not without noticing the disapproving glance that came with it from the woman as the transaction ended. They were being obnoxious to be sure, but still, the woman's disdain irked her.

Remy stepped away and then doubled back, the vixen in her taking over. "He's not my father, he's my uncle!"

Giving her and extra big kiss to punctuate her lie, House laced his fingers in hers as she returned to his side. He smiled at her and then looked down for a second before stepping out onto the next mission. "So who do you want to be next? "

"Well, I have to get more perfume so, 'married man and floozy mistress'?" she offered.

"Oh fun," he said.

Suddenly, a sparkly new object grabbed his attention and Remy found herself being dragged towards the lingerie department. "I spy with my little eye…" he announced happily as he weaved them through the racks of pajamas and robes into the depths of the sea of bras and panties.

Remy arched an eyebrow at him as she followed his lead to a tree of adorable, sexy little panties. Always a sucker for cute underwear, she immediately began looking around at the frilly lace cotton and silk combinations. She could use a few more pairs of underwear and some bras to match. Who was she to complain about a little detour?

"These are hot," he said holding up a pair of lowcut boyshorts in rich chocolate brown cotton with baby pink lace at the edges and waist. The bra was a perfect demi-cup that had matching lace trim and a cute little bow in the middle. House was definitely a fan of the little bows.

"Ooo, that is," she cooed coming over to finger the delicate whisper thin cotton. "And that's my size. Good guess."

"Please, you think Taub is the only one who knows his love bubbles?" He held up his hand around one of the cups and then against her boob and then back again nodding at his correct assumption. "Just under a handful, not too big, not too small, just right." He waggled his eyebrows at her comically and then thrust the hanger in her face to take from him. He was already moving onto the next pair he liked, a turquoise and black tiny polka dotted matching set with a corset-style bra-top camisole and a string bikini. Remy chuckled as he grabbed her size off the rack and handed them backwards to her this time having noted the size on the tag. To her surprise, he had good taste and knew exactly what he liked.

"Oh now this is perfect," he announced taking her over to the nightie area, grabbing one more set of black and cream lace panties and a bra on his way. Caught up in his whirlwind, she hurried over to him to see what he had come up with now. Remy had to say it was absolutely gorgeous. He held up a rose colored, lace flyaway babydoll nightie. The open front tied with a silk ribbon in between the exquisitely decorated bra cups with beautifully delicate lace flutter straps. It had a matching string bikini in the same lace. Arching his eyebrow, he waited for her reaction.

"Yes, please," she replied to his wordless question. "Try on or fashion show at home?"

"Fashion show at home," he answered quickly. "Let's go, I'm buying."

He was off to the counter in a flash again and Remy actually had to double step to keep up with him. "House, you don't have to buy all this for me."

"I'm not buying it for you, I'm buying it for me," he replied digging his wallet out of his back jeans pocket.

Remy level a withering look at him. "Seriously, I…"

"Seriously," he stated firmly cutting her off. "I want to, now shut up and put the stuff on the counter."

The elegant, caramel skinned woman behind the counter politely ignored their exchange as she rang up the pile of lingerie. She carefully wrapped each set in tissue paper and placed them into a shopping bag as if they were delicate jewels from the orient. House handed her his American Express and waited to sign the slip. The gorgeous woman smiled at him as she handed him the large shopping bag. "There you are, Mr. House. Have a wonderful evening."

House beamed a smile back at her, accepting the package. "I plan to."

Remy took her parcel from his hand and slid her arm around his waist underneath his leather jacket. He squeezed her too him brushing another kiss across her lips. "If I want to buy my sexy hot girlfriend stuff, don't argue with me, just accept it."

"Ok," she replied, kissing him in return. "Thank you."

"Now let's go home and make that pink one filthy dirty…"

"What about my perfume?"

"We have to go back that way anyway," he mused. "And I can't live without you smelling that way so I suppose we'll get it on the way out."

"Yay," she clapped excitedly like a girl. "Shopping with you is fun."

"Don't get used to it," he grumbled and then kissed a spot on her neck with a chuckle. "It would take forever to buy stuff if I had to get you lingerie every time we needed something."

"Yeah, but I'd have a lot of really cute underwear."

Remy held onto his hand as they continued the remainder of their shopping excursion. To her amusement, he was adamant about buying her perfume, which came in the little gift set with the moisturizer and shower gel, as well. While it made her feel a little like a kept woman, his attention also made her feel special that he was doting on her like an actual, bona fide girlfriend. He was unconsciously using words like 'home' and 'we' linking himself to her in a way that was domestic and implied a future for them. Things were changing for them in a positive way. She felt secure and a little giddy with the idea that this was a real, stable relationship. He may never say how much he needed her but his actions spoke louder than any words he could have uttered, and that was more than enough for her.

Once they made it back home to his apartment, he pushed her inside the door with an urgency that made her skin tingle. His lips curled into a devilish grin as he slipped his hands around her waist and tugged her close to him. Remy giggled as he traced the contours of her face with the tip of his cold nose. It had turned quite chilly outside and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. Dropping her shopping bags, she pressed her hands to his face kissing him gently. As their tongues mingled together in their familiar dance, his hands came around to cup her backside slanting her hips against his. Feeling his arousal against the fly of her jeans excited that tingle in her skin to an electrified current. No matter how much they touched each other, she simply could never have enough of him.

Breaking his lips from hers, he breathed, "Go and put one of those things on. I want to see you in my sexy gifts."

Remy trailed her fingertip down the front of his chest feeling the softness of his t-shirt. "Start a fire while I go and take a quick shower." She turned to leave but he pulled her back by her fingertips and kissed her slowly and deeply again.

"Don't take forever," he ordered after he finished melting her with his kiss.

Stepping away from him once more, she teased him with her eyes. "I won't. I promise."

"I'll be waiting," he said watching her go.

Remy bent to pick up the shopping bag and hurried down the hall with a liveliness to her step. _Oh, she could only imagine the things he was going to do to her… And she could hardly wait._

_A/N: Dearest readers, I am sorry to say this is the setup for the last chapter. I know out of the blue, huh? Yeah, it kind of shocked me too as I was writing the next one because it had such a finality to it when I came to the end. You will see that it ends at a logical place. It's romantic and hot and very emotional. I am sad that the muse has lead me to this spot but I know in my heart that it's the right way to go. Please know how much I have cherished your love and attention through out this whole story. All of your support has made me deeply happy._

_I know that I'm not totally done with these two…so you can definitely look forward to some stuff in the future. Not sure when, but these two are just too interesting to let go. Enjoy and happy reading!_


	56. Chapter 56

The Gauntlet

Chapter 56

_**A/N: go to youtube and find "Maurizio Pollini plays Chopin Nocturne no. 8 op. 27 no. 2" and listen as you read… **_

House ran his fingers evenly over the keys trickling out a rhythm like water running over a gentle brook. The music flowed from him, cascading out from his inside, down though his arms to his fingers like an electric current. He was immersed in the serenity of sound and feeling.

The delicate harmony filled the quiet space around him, mixing with the subtle crackle of the fire in the hearth beside him and the gentle tick of the clock over the cabinets in the kitchen. Thirteen was in the shower washing the remains of the day from herself while he relaxed, as he so often did, with a glass of bourbon and his music.

He hadn't really intended to buy her that lingerie tonight; it just came over him when they were there. A glimpse of something pink had caught his eye and it reminded him of the very first night they had sex… when she had come to him in a pink lace bra and panties. She was exquisite then, and he couldn't believe that she had been standing in front of him that night. She was, for all intents and purposes, the most beautiful woman he had ever had the pleasure of. Tonight, he wanted to celebrate that beauty by finding other garments that would be equally as enticing on her. Lingerie was fun… and when you had such a perfect canvas to paint on, well, it was like eye-candy even for the blind.

He sipped his drink, letting the warmth fill his mouth as he continued to play. He was feeling classical tonight. Fingers traipsing through a Schumann Etude, he recalled hours upon hours of practicing until it was just so; running scales crescendoing upward, higher and higher on the keys escalating to a feverish pitch. He closed his eyes, playing out the bottom chords, their reverberation filling his chest. He didn't have to see, he could feel and remember exactly where and how the fingers were supposed to go. The notes soared and swelled, taking him away on cloud of musical ease. He loved this time of day, when it was dark and quiet, and he could sit by the fire and play with a drink warming in the air on top of the piano. And now, with his amazing woman changing in the next room, he had something equally as wonderful to look forward to.

House could hear her shut off the water to the shower and putter around the bathroom. He loved having her around and enjoyed the little sounds that she made as she moved through his apartment. She was silent like a ninja. When she padded around in her bare feet, sometimes he could barely tell she was there. He always knew though, because even if she was quiet, her presence was big. He could feel her energy. It was peaceful and comforting. She was quiet and serene and she calmed him.

In his mind's eye, he could see her wrapped in one of the fuzzy towels, combing out her long auburn hair. Her skin would be dewy, freshly scrubbed from her shower. As he continued to play the rich classical music, he was reminded of those paintings by Degas of the bathers and he could imagine her dabbing on fragrant spots of that exotic cinnamon perfume. His body began to tighten in anticipation of her coming to him in the filmy lace negligee he bought for her. There was something so possessive and primal about it; a man waiting for a woman to come to him as she prepared for him to make love to her. It was predatorial, almost antiquated, yet the feeling was quite visceral.

He transitioned to a lyrical piece by Chopin, a Nocturne, which seemed fitting. It was another one of the many that he had memorized over the years. This one was very much like Thirteen, complicated in its base, simple in the melody, a study in contrasts, really, deep and rife with emotions but seemingly effortless when played correctly. His hands moved purposefully over the smooth ivory, reveling in the magic of smooth plastic and felted wood on a taughtly tuned string. He caressed the keys, making sweet music, just as he was going to caress her body in a short while as he made love to her. He would play her like a piano, making her hum and crescendo like a delicate and passionate piece of music.

Wordlessly, effortlessly, she came into the room. He glanced up when he felt her presence by the piano and she took his breath away. She was more beautiful that he could have ever imagined. Her long hair was damp, falling in twisted curls as it dried naturally of its own accord. Her skin was indeed, clean and dewy, soft and still supple from the heat of her shower. The lace camisole he had picked out for her looked like it had been made solely for her, the way it hugged her breasts gently lifting them to lovely mounds that curved softly over the thin, fine fabric tied with a delicate ribbon just begging to be pulled open.

His hands stilled, hovering over the keys and he flexed his fingers, aching to touch her. He swallowed hard as she stepped closer to him, a secretive smile playing on her lips. She was ready for him, seducing him with her mysteriously feminine aura. He reached out his hand for her and she ran her fingers up his forearm as he guided her hips in between his legs and the piano. Her ass bumped the keys as he placed her directly in front of him making an awkward sound that echoed into the silence of the room and she laughed melodiously as she brought her hands to rest on his shoulders.

House looked up into her eyes and felt his pulse quicken with every second she held his gaze. Her grey blue eyes had deepened to a rich murky slate and a flush of heat graced the skin on her chest. Her tongue darted out licking her full lips as she lifted her chin urging him to kiss her. He held her eyes instead, absorbing the sensation of beauty. Deliberately, he placed his fingers on the flat plane of her stomach where the lace hung open, trailing his palm up the length of her abdomen, experiencing every inch of her smooth skin. She plunged her fingers into his hair when he followed that same path with his nose, teasing her with his breath. Her belly tightened reflexively underneath his touch they way it always did when he tickled her with his beard. Her skin smelled fresh and powdery, and he closed his eyes at the sound of her exhale.

Slowly pulling back from her, he dipped his fingers into his bourbon and painted a line down her stomach, filling her belly button with a drop of the amber liquid. A ghost of a smile hovered around the corners of her mouth and she gasped out loud when he flicked his tongue in to lick out the taste of bourbon on her skin. He inhaled a deep breath as the heady mixture of oak and flesh mingled on his lips.

Normally he would never consider this, but she was so intoxicating that he had to taste all of her right now. Grabbing her solidly by the hips, he lifted her to the top of the piano careful not to knock off the glass or damage his precious instrument. Her eyes were wide in heated fervor as he guided her feet to the keys, once more plunking out incompatible notes when her heels pressed the ivories and blacks in dissonance. Running his hands along the length of her inner thighs, she surrendered herself to him and laid her head languidly back against the shellacked surface of the piano, allowing him to have his way with her. Watching her, his fingers skimmed the damp triangle of pink lace that covered her curls. She let out a moan and arched herself toward him, silently begging for him to touch deeper. Slipping his finger underneath the lace, he stroked her gently working her silky smoothness to a moist bud.

Rising, House stood over her relishing how she stared deeply into his eyes, silently pleading with him to give her release. She reached her hand out to touch him and he clasped her fingers in his, kissing the tips one by one before suckling each one in turn.

He was making himself crazy, taking his time, but this wasn't about him. Right now this was about her and her pleasure. His would come later. Hooking his thumbs under the string of her panties, he slipped the scrap of lace off of her legs and tossed them aside gently kissing her ankles and knees as he guided her feet back to the keys. Taking the glass of bourbon in his hand, he dipped his fingers in again and carefully dripped a path of his favorite liquor onto her stomach and into the freshly cleaned tangle of hair between her legs. When he licked the trail off her skin, she nearly came off the top of the piano in ecstasy, her body taught with anticipation to have his tongue where she needed it most. Every path, every stroke elicited a moan sexier than the next. She was purring like a kitten by the time he sat back down on the piano seat and plunged his tongue into her dusky essence. She tasted so incredibly sweet mixed with the burn of his whiskey, a dizzying combination he wouldn't soon forget. His tongue delved into her moist heat, repeatedly flicking and teasing her to a feverish pitch, just like the rising scale he had memorized long ago. Her feet plunked out random chords as she writhed under him. The abstract sounds of her pleasure blended enthusiastically with her sighs and drove him further into her. Never in his life had he enjoyed such discord in his ears. Finally, she screamed out as her orgasm exploded deep within her.

Sated and breathing heavily, she lay back against the hard surface beneath her for a few breaths and House placed chaste kisses along the creamy flesh of her inner thigh. He waited for her to come back down to reality, gently running his fingers down the backs of her calves. Eventually, she sat up on the piano and smiled dreamily down into his face. Her eyes were heavy with desire. She was replete and pleasured, and he would have gladly gone to bed with the memory of her bliss fresh in his mind but she evidently had other designs for how this even was going to end. Cupping the back of his head in her hands, she leaned over and kissed him with a passion that reached down into his soul. His lungs burned with a feeling for her so heavy that he thought it might consume him.

Slowly, she slid herself down from the piano guided by his hands. Once her feet were back on the floor, she reached her hand out to him summoning him toward the living room. House placed his free hand on his thigh for support as he followed her the few small steps away from the piano. He watched her as she turned and pushed the coffee table out of the way leaving a space on the carpet in front of the fireplace. Grabbing the blanket from the couch, she knelt down in front of him and began to undo the button of his jeans. He watched her intently as she took down his pants freeing him from the confines of his clothing. Gently, reverently, she ran her hands up his thighs and he didn't know why but he let her touch his scar. It wasn't scrutiny or analysis; it was pure erotic touch, as if the evidence of his disability wasn't even there. What was more was that she was face to face with the damage and it was like she wasn't even seeing the disfigured flesh before her eyes. Instead, she lifted the hem of his t-shirt and urged him to remove it before taking the full and aching length of him into her mouth.

House almost fell over as the exquisite torture of her tongue on him sent him swaying off balance. He reached out to hold onto something for stability, but couldn't find anything. He had to grab onto her head to stabilize himself, and it proved to be an even more erotic a move than he anticipated. Groaning, he threw his head back in rapture as she returned the favor and exacted superb torture on him. He was powerless to her touch; he couldn't move or balance himself. She had rendered him incapacitated in a few long, smooth strokes. He had only her to rely on and his equilibrium was fading fast.

Panting out a breath, he moaned and grunted, fighting the coming his release. "Remy… I can't."

Slowly, she stopped her exquisite torment and pulled back as she held out her hand to help him down to the floor next to her. He was breathing heavy as he knelt in front of her. House knew there was panic in his eyes, his vulnerability exposed like an open wound but she smiled lovingly at him and wrapped her arms around him swaying gently into his body. She didn't comfort him or condescend as she kissed him, instead she continued her pursuit of him and he wondered when this had turned from his masculine pursuit of her, to her exquisitely feminine making love to him.

None of it really mattered, though, when she eased him to the floor and straddled his hips, taking him fully inside her. Pausing for a moment, he simply breathed a few breaths, savoring the incredible feeling of her. He reached up and tugged on the rose-colored ribbon, letting the delicate lace fall away to the sides exposing her fully to him. The amber light from the fire illuminated her skin to a golden ocher, rich and buttery, like a hot summer sunset. His hands reached up to cup both of her breasts, tweaking her nipples between his fingers; tugging and playing with them causing her to bite on her lip as she moaned in pleasure. Fervently aware of her around him, he brought his hands down and held her hips as she began to rock against him slowly taking him in and out. She was liquid heaven, hot and moist, searing him inside her. They were both so close to the precipice that they soon exploded into a blinding climax in a few brief strokes. Pulling her down against his chest, he held her tightly to him, closing his eyes against her hair. He was shaking with raw emotion for her and he knew that he was irrevocably bound to her now more than ever. He loved her deep within his soul and he could no longer live without her by his side.

Swallowing, he ran his hand down the length of her back. "Move in with me. Stay here permanently." His breath was coming in gasps and his heart was pounding in his ears.

In the mere seconds it took for her to respond, House's world paused in a terrifying limbo. He wasn't sure what she would say. They had never discussed such a thing other than the apartment key issue the other night. He knew she was committed to him but she was fiercely independent and had been for a long time. He had no idea how she felt on the subject and wondered briefly if he had made a grave mistake by asking her.

Slowly, she lifted her head from his chest to look him in the eye. Momentary fear clutched at his heart, but he was immediately rewarded with a smile and a shimmer of tears in her eyes.

"Yes."

He brought his hand to her face, swiping at the moisture with his thumb, and he was lost in the crystal blue depths of her eyes. She bent to kiss him, laughing in sheer joy as she hugged him tightly.

House let out a sigh of relief, chuckling as she half laughed, half cried into his neck. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she replied.

"Because I don't want to tie you down, if you don't want to…" he said halfheartedly, praying that she wouldn't take the out he'd just given her.

"Babe, I would have moved in after you gave me the key for Christmas," she told him. "I've just been waiting for you to come around to it."

"I should have asked you then… I would have asked you then but…" his voice trailed off not really knowing what he wanted to say.

Running a finger along the length of his collarbone, she shrugged and smiled lovingly into his eyes. "No matter. You asked now and now's good."

House's heart squeezed in his chest. Though they never would be the marrying kind, they were profoundly devoted to each other. He loved her more than he could ever really express. Living together was a final step for him, a promise to be faithful and true to her. He didn't need a ceremony or a piece of paper to tell him he was hers or that she was his. Her presence by his side everyday was proof enough. Now, finally after all of the shitty experiences he'd been through, he was happy, content and at peace for the first time in a long, long time. This incredibly fascinating woman in his arms made him feel oddly, strangely… utterly complete.

She was his nocturne, his study in contrasts… she was his Thirteen.

Remy lay next him, curled up in the blanket, listening to the soft steady sound of his heartbeat in his chest, the soft crackle of the fire filling the space between. She was content, sated, supremely happy.

If anyone had told Remy Hadley when she first walked into Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital six months ago that she would have fallen so deeply in love with the most difficult, brilliantly fanatical man in the world she would never have believed them. If they had told her she would be in an intensely sexual and loving relationship with him, she would have thought they were delusional. From the very first minute she laid eyes on him, Gregory House was unattainable, untouchable, unlovable.

He was… House.

In the beginning she hated him… She truly hated him. He was rude, insensitive, obnoxious and overly demanding. He made all of their lives a living nightmare in a survival quest for a coveted job that seemed like only the rash and foolhardy wanted or needed. There were days when Remy had wanted to just walk away, to run screaming from the hallowed halls of Diagnostics toward some semblance of sanity. But something had kept her there; something had amused her about him and told her that this, whatever it may have amounted to, was meant to be. If she had known then what she knew now, she would have laughed herself silly.

Since that first day, she had killed a patient and his dog, repeatedly committed Breaking and Entering, had survived to the Final Four and then wound up fired. She did drugs with him, proposed a sexual liaison with him and got it; and oh boy was it good. She had fallen in love with him that very first night at his place. She was sure of it now; somewhere between the wine, the stupid rules, the breaking glass and the morning she woke up in his arms, she fell irrevocably head over heals for him. He had broken her heart in a swift moment of indecision but had then won her back in the sweetest most selfless gesture. Ever since then, he hadn't let her go. She knew then that she would have followed him to the ends of the Earth.

Now, Remy loved him… truly, deeply, ardently loved him with a passion that set fire to her core. He grounded her, filled her, taught her and challenged her to be so much more than she ever expected she could be; as a doctor, as a woman and as a lover. The closer they became the more she was secure and stable in her decisions, confident in the choices that she had made and accepting of the potential for her death if it were to ever come to light. They had opened themselves to one another and had allowed each other access to their fiercely protected souls.

The House she had come to know was so much more than he portrayed to the world. With her, he was gentle and caring, loving and affectionate. He allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of her and he had come to trust her. There was a deeply compassionate side to him that no one, not even his closest friend was permitted to see. And that very fact made her feel special, chosen and very deeply loved.

To say that she was the happiest she had been in her life would be an understatement. To believe that it was because of the love of a man who shut the rest of the world out with derision would have been absurd. To hold fast that she wouldn't have had it any other way should have been insane. But she was Remy Hadley; she thrived on the unique, the interesting, the slightly off kilter. She wanted her life to be atypical; she wanted her life to matter and to know that she had made a difference in the world before she was gone from it. She knew that in the six short months that she had been here, with him, she had already achieved that and more. She had made a difference, for their patients and definitely for him. Most importantly, she had made a difference for herself. She was stronger, she was smarter and she was happy.

For however long this love affair lasted for them, Remy knew that she would cherish every single moment of it. She had a rare glimpse into pure bliss and every other thing; every other person would pale in comparison.

Remy Hadley loved Greg House.

It wasn't fairytale.

It wasn't even Middle America suburban.

It was uniquely theirs... and whatever it was, _it_ _was_ _happily ever after_.

THE END

_A/N: Thank you to all of you readers who have favorited, alerted and reviewed along the way (and even you silent ones). I am grateful for your time and your enthusiastic support. _

_Special thanks to Kwaish for coming to the dark side with me, brainstorming and adding ALL those commas! Thanks to Vanamo for always being on the dark side and for letting me bounce ideas off your head._

_This has been a great ride and I have LOVED every minute of it. I adore these two as a couple and could surely have written an epic of domesticity and mundanities but, alas all good things must come to an end._

_One day I will revisit them. I have this story about a dog… _

_Ciao for now my friends!_

_Love you all, _

_iyimgrace_


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